


Making Magic

by Acantha_Rayne_OakMoon, TanzaniteWrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Duelling Tournament, F/M, Hermione and Pansy are Business Partners, Hermione is a Wandmaker, More tags to come later but... spoilers!!!, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn (Sort Of), Ten Years Post War, Unicorns, Whodunnit? Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acantha_Rayne_OakMoon/pseuds/Acantha_Rayne_OakMoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanzaniteWrites/pseuds/TanzaniteWrites
Summary: There is more to wand-making than eleven year old witches and wizards are lead to believe. When Hermione took over the British market in selling the 'must have' item of every magical practitioner, she revolutionised it. When an unexpected source makes her an offer she can't refuse, her life takes an unexpected turn. It is well documented that 'the wand chooses the wizard', but will the witch choose the wizard too?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Padma Patil, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley/Hermione Granger (Past), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Grange & Pansy Parkinson (Friends), Hermione Granger & Severus Snape (Friends), Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley (Past), Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (past), Hermione granger/Severus Snape (Brief), Pansy Parkinson/Charlie Weasley, Ron Weasley/Lavender Brown (Past)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TanzaniteWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanzaniteWrites/gifts).



_ Christmas 2007 _

“Daddy, what time is Auntie Mione getting here?” Little Albus Severus asked his father, just before lunch was ready to be served.

“Any time now, son,” Harry replied to his youngest son before continuing. “And I know you’re excited for the presents she’s bringing but you will have to wait until after we’ve eaten and not nag her or us to get them early. I’ve told James the same thing so I expect both of you to be good, right?”

The last bit was spoken louder to remind his other son of the talk they’d had twenty minutes ago. At seven years old, James was really starting to test limits. Albus, being five, just copied his older brother. Thankfully, baby Lily didn’t care that much about what her brothers were up to and gurgled happily as she reached for the toys floating over her head in the downstairs playpen.

“Ok daddy,” Albus said sweetly before tearing away and up the stairs, shouting back, “I’m going to get her present from my room.”

“I told you to bring that down yesterday,” Ginny shouted after him, having just come through from preparing lunch in the kitchen. She sighed. “James, sweetie; have you brought your gift for Auntie Mione down from under your bedroom tree?”

“Yep. I did it when you told me to, Mum,” he answered proudly.

“Good boy. What are you reading?”

“The Narnia books Auntie Mione got me for my birthday. It’s not very nice about witches but there’s a talking lion and a magical world through a wardrobe. It’s so weird.”

“Oh I read that when I was about your age.” Harry said with a fond smile at his eldest child. “Your Uncle Dudley was never really a fan of reading so he never noticed when I used to sneak his books into my room.”

“You didn’t have a room, Dad, you had a cupboard. Uncle George told me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He was trying to protect his children from certain facts about his own childhood but with several dozen biographies and secret-allergic relatives, it was an impossible task.

“I think your Uncle George needs a visit from the bad end of my wand.”

James giggled, muttering something about ‘if anyone asks, I didn’t grass’ and went back to his book.

…

Lunch had started with a James-tantrum (that boy was definitely going to be in Gryffindor, absolutely zero impulse control), followed by an Albus-tantrum (probably Gryffindor too, given the family heritage) when both boys wanted the gifts Hermione had brought them the second she walked in the door. Firmly being told ‘no’ by several adults was not something Gryffindors were good at listening to.

They had both apologised to Hermione after the thorough telling off, Albus contritely, James less so, and eaten lunch very quietly, hoping they would still get their gifts. In the opinion of both of her godsons, Hermione always gave the best presents, and they both had their fingers crossed that this year they would be getting the ‘junior wands’ she sold at her wand shop – ‘Making Magic’. Not daring to ask for Auntie Mione’s presents again, James decided to go and practice flying in the garden on his new Junior Thunderbolt whilst Albus was taught how to play Exploding Snap by his mum.

By 3 o’clock, little Lily was taking a nap and both boys couldn’t wait another minute for Hermione’s gifts. They had been conspiring at the top of the stairs, deciding if they had been ‘well-behaved’ long enough to warrant getting their treats.

“Auntie Mioneeeee…?” James asked, in a creeping voice. Hermione had to hide her smile.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was just excited cus you give the best presents. Can me and Albus open our stuff now, pleeeeeease?”

“First of all, James, you should say ‘Albus and I’, not ‘me and Albus’. Secondly, I accept your apology as this time it seems more sincere. Thirdly, you need to ask your parents to come in and collect Albus if you both want your presents.”

James ran off into the kitchen first, where his dad was washing up, shouting Albus down from upstairs as he passed by the bottom step. Ginny appeared on the stairs a moment later with a screeching Lily, scowling at having her daughter woken up.

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered. “My fault. I told James they could have their gifts.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but nodded.

When everyone was situated, Hermione grinned at Harry.

“Do you remember the spell I taught you for the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?”

“Of course I do. It was  _ Accio _ , right? Summoned my broom all the way from the castle to the arena.”

“How do you feel about teaching it to the boys so they can summon their gifts?”

“Without a wand? I know James has started to show accidental magic but…”

“But this isn’t an accident and Albus accidentally turned my curtains green when I looked after him last month so his magic is starting to show too. Besides, it’s the only way they can get their presents, if they summon them, themselves.”

“Ok, James first… Come up here, son.”

James settled next to Harry on the plush, chocolate velvet sofa and looked into his dad’s eyes expectantly.

“Right, well I haven’t taught spells since our DA days but let’s see what I can remember. You write and eat with your right hand so that will be your dominant hand for magic. Practice the word first though… ‘accio’… ‘ack-see-O’.”

“Accio.” James responded, trying to sound more confident than he felt. This was the first time he was trying magic on purpose. It was exciting but nervousness was mixed into his emotions too. Not to mention, impatience for his gift, which was looking more and more like it might be that wand.

“Very good. Now, the summoning charm needs to know what you want to summon so you have to instruct your magic on what you want it to grab for you. For example,” Harry held out his right hand, palm up… “ _ Accio, my wand. _ ”

The wand flew from the coffee table in front of them, into its master’s waiting palm. The boys weren’t that impressed; they’d seen their dad, mum, uncles, cousins, grandparents and Aunt Hermione do magic all their lives but it did instil more nervousness, knowing they now had to do it themselves.

“See?” Harry asked, smiling fondly at his son.

James nodded.

“Ready to give it a go?” Ginny asked from an armchair across the room where she was feeding Lily.

“I think so,” he said with a bit more confidence. “I can do this,” he muttered to himself quietly.

James held out his palm, mimicking what his father had shown him, took a deep breath, and imagined his magic shooting into Aunt Mione’s handbag and pulling his present out. He wasn’t sure his magic was a strong enough match for the bag though; he’d fallen in once when he was three and on the hunt for sweets. It was huge inside; it’d taken an hour for them to find him.

“Accio my present from Auntie Mione.” James said loudly.

There was a clatter that echoed around the depths of the handbag and James saw his Auntie’s face go quite red.

“Please tell me you put them at the top, Hermione.” Harry said, looking at his oldest friend. “This is his first go at intentional magic. Don’t scar him for life.”

“Not a chance of that. He’s going to have a bigger ego than all of Slytherin. And the gift isn’t too far down. Top layer, so that go probably moved stuff out the way. This one should do it.”

Albus had been very quiet up to now. Just listening to the instructions and growing steadily more scared of his go. But after Auntie Mione’s words, something occurred to him that made his stomach churn.

“Daddy, what if James’s magic knocks my present further down in Auntie Mione’s bag. My magic isn’t strong enough to pull a present all the way from the beaded dungeon.”

All the adults burst out laughing, which confused the little wizard but he didn’t want to get into trouble so waited for them to calm down.

“Who called my bag that?” Hermione finally said, swapping her laughter for a scowl.

“I think it was probably one of George’s kids. It doesn’t sound like Victoire. Although, I suppose it could’ve been Teddy. He was here last weekend with Andi for dinner.” Ginny responded, all too innocently.

“Or you?” Harry said to his wife, smirking.

“It was not me.” Ginny flared, standing up in mock fury but only able to put one hand on a hip, the other supporting baby Lily.

“It  _ was _ you, mummy,” Albus accused. “This morning at Nana Molly’s; you told daddy to keep me away from the beaded dungeon so I don’t fall in like James did.”

Ginny pinked as Hermione scowled at her.

“You’re the one with kids too inquisitive for their own good.”

“You’re calling my kids inquisitive,  _ Miss-I-was-ready-for-my-NEWTs-aged-twelve _ ?”

The adults started laughing again before Harry looked at Albus.

“Don’t worry, Al. After James fell into  _ the beaded dungeon _ , Auntie Mione added extra magic to make sure only the top layer of stuff could be reached by anyone but her. Right, Mi?”

“Yeah. No more accidents. Not with the amount of little wizards and witchlings running around at a Weasley gathering. Now, James, are you ready to try again?”

“Yes!” James shouted confidently. The brief reprieve had given him time to gather his courage and run through the words a few times in his head. He held out his right palm and thought of wrapping paper on a long thin box. “ _ Accio, my gift from Auntie Mione. _ ”

Just as he had imagined it, a long thin box flew out of  _ The Beaded Dungeon _ , next to his Auntie and magically hurtled toward him, eventually moving straight passed his outstretched hand and slamming into his little chest, making him make an ‘oomph’ sound.

Again, the adults all laughed amongst praises of how well he’d done to get it on his second go.

“Your dad was fourteen when I taught him that spell and it took a whole day. You did so well but I just want you to wait a few minutes until Al has his. You ready Al?”

Albus shook his head.

“It’s ok. You can try a few times and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out. Do you want daddy to help you or do you want to have a go with me or mummy to help?”

“Can I sit with you please, Auntie Mione? If I sit on your lap, my magic doesn’t have to go as far to get my present.”

“That is very logical thinking, Al. Of course, you can sit with me. Come on, up on my lap.”

Albus scrambled from near his dad’s legs and across the room with the exuberance only an excited five year old about to get another Christmas present can show, practically jumping onto Hermione’s lap.

“Oomph. Al, be careful. You’re getting too big to jump up like that. And I’m getting too old to take it.”

“You look just the same as you always do, Auntie Mione. What do I do?”

Hermione kissed her nephew’s forehead for being adorable and then took his little right hand in hers.

“Ok. So you see this hand? This is the hand that pushes your magic out to do stuff but first you need to tell it what you want it to do. Do you remember the words for the spell?”

“Waxio?” Albus said, smiling.

“Nearly. There’s no ‘w’ sound at the beginning. Just Accio. Say it with me… ‘ _ Accio’ _ . Good boy. Now, your present is the same shape as James’s so you need to pretend you can see it in your hand already and then say the spell and push your magic out of your hand. Not too loudly or your present will whack you when it comes out like James’s did. Ready?”

Albus nodded before taking a very deep breath and letting his determination show on his face. It had taken James two tries to get it right. If he could do it in one try, he’d be better than James.

“Accio, my present from Auntie Mione.”

The long thin box practically jumped out of Hermione’s bag, flying three feet above their heads before landing with a low  _ thunk _ on Albus’s lap.

There was a small round of applause from all the adults, whilst James sulked a little at Albus getting his spell right first time.

“Okay boys. I think you can both open them now… three, two, one…. Go.”

Wrapping paper flew into the air before the boys opened their boxes enthusiastically and with much excited tension. The squeals of joy could have woken the dead when each Potter son discovered their very own junior wand.

James’s was made of holly, with a carnelian crystal pointed tip and copper wrapped around the handle. His initials ‘JSP’ were carved into the side, along with a hoof print to honour his father and grandfather, and a paw print in recognition of his other namesake, Sirius.

Albus was twirling his teakwood wand in his fingers; a clear quartz crystal at one end, a leather strap binding the handle and his initials ‘ASP’, just like his brother’s wand, were carved into the side. Again, a hoof print was carved into the wood to honour his immediate paternal generations, a flying phoenix and a small cauldron decorated with a hoof mark remembered his name sakes – Dumbledore and Snape.

“Oh Hermione… this is too much.” Harry said, a tear in his eye as both of his boys rushed into cuddles with their Auntie.

“You went to so much trouble.” Ginny gasped, choked up.

“Oh please.” Hermione smiled. “They took me a few days in September when the Hogwarts rush for full wands had cleared. And if I can’t spoil my godchildren, who does that leave me to spoil? Hmm?”

“You could always spoil me.” Ginny laughed, “I wouldn’t mind a new wand.”

“I made you a new wand last…”

Hermione was cut off by the fireplace roaring to life. Floo flames rose in a brilliant green behind the sofa before dying down to reveal delicately chiselled features and perfectly slicked blond hair.

“Malfoy! What are you doing here?” Harry asked, curiously.

“Andi said Granger was here. I need to ask her a favour.” Draco responded to his colleague of five years.

“You’d better come through then.” Ginny answered. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Tea was served whilst Draco and Harry talked about work and the boys studied their children’s spell books that accompanied their new wands.

Hermione missed the subtle look between Harry and Draco but Ginny caught it and set things in motion for Draco to ask his favour.

“Harry, why don’t you go and help the boys with their wands? I need to make up one of the spare rooms for Ron. Now that he and Lavender have split up for good, I don’t think he’s going to be able to deal with mum full time and I said he could stay here until he finds a place.”

The kitchen emptied out within a few moments and left Hermione and Draco awkwardly trying to think of how to start a conversation. Things were better between the two than they ever were in school but the past always seemed to linger like a heavy cloud when they were alone together. There were no hard feelings left; just a heaviness in the air of unspoken apologies and ‘thank yous’.

Draco cleared his throat.

“Erm… Granger… I need your help with something.”

“What’s up, buttercup?” Hermione said, shaking her head at her own ridiculousness. It was nerve-wracking waiting to find out what he wanted to ask and blurting out that stupid muggle phrase made her want a crack to open up in the earth’s crust and swallow her whole.

Draco just frowned at her odd turn of phrase and pushed on.

“Well, the release date for my father has been set and I was wondering if you could make him a new wand. You-know-who snapped the old one.”

“Oh!” This wasn’t what she’d expected. She didn’t really know what she’d expected but not this. “Well, I suppose I can. I mean, I kept Garrick’s records so I can make a replacement from the magical signature of the old one. What restrictions are being enforced by the Ministry?”

This was not the first time she’d had to make a new wand for a released Death Eater. She had developed the crystal tip as a way to restrict certain magics… which is what had led to creating and selling the junior wands. Certain crystals could enhance or restrict different types of magic or the intensity of the energy used in a spell. They could also ground the caster, give them more confidence, or soothe them. She called it ‘wand alchemy’ and was in the process of writing a book on her discoveries.

“I was hoping you could make something brand new for him. My grandfather was with him when he picked out that first wand and though it chose him, he was in a very different frame of mind at eleven to what he is now. I don’t think it would match who he is anymore. I know mine didn’t after the war. The one you made me when you were apprenticing is my perfect match; and Scorpius never puts his junior one down. I don’t know how I’m going to pry it off him to swap for a full strength one when he’s eleven.”

Hermione smiled at that.

“Ok. Well, I’ve learned a little about your family magic from making your new wand and Scorpius’s but your father is a different kettle of fish. I’ve known you most of my life so I tuned in easily enough. Kids are an open book when it comes to their magical cores… it shines out of them. With Lucius, I think I’d have to meet him again before I start, with the express purpose of reviewing the feel of his magic.”

“I think I can arrange that. Just don’t tell him what it’s for. I want it to be a ‘welcome home’ present.”

“You’re turning into a big softie, you know that, right?”

Draco snorted.

“I’ll do everything I can to make a great wand for him. Are the restrictions the same as for Rowle?”

“Yes. Does that change anything?”

“Not really, it limits the crystals I can use.” Hermione considered which gems could enforce the level of restriction needed. “Emeralds would work if he wants to be a walking cliché but I think peridot might be more subtle and I have a shaft piece I could embed into the cane to hold it if you want the cane to hold the wand?”

“His old cane got broken. I was, erm… working out some anger issues just after he went to Azkaban. It’s not just decorative though, he does need it. An old crucio wound to his hip; from the late seventies, I think.”

“What about a staff? It will be dormant until his restrictions are lifted but I think blending the peridot shaft with several woods would suit him and look amazing; it should be really powerful too.”

“Yeah. I think emeralds would be too on the nose, even for him. The snake head also  _ disappeared _ so maybe a new headpiece?”

“I know just the thing. Could you get me a picture of you and Scorpius so I can get the likeness right? My smithing skills aren’t up to much but Seamus Finnegan is great at making stuff like that. He has an exclusive contract with the goblins but I’m sure I can pull some strings.”

“How do you come up with this stuff, Granger?” Malfoy asked, slightly awed.

“Practice mostly. Although, since your mother’s passing, I can imagine family being all the more important. You and Scorpius are all he has left and I can’t imagine what state he’ll be in when he leaves Azkaban. I can imbue the staff with your family magic… it’ll help ground him.”

“You’re amazing, Granger. I was so nervous about asking you to do this. I mean, you owe us nothing and…”

“Stop!” Hermione commanded, holding up a hand. “One, I’m a professional who would never turn down business based on personal history; two, this is going to be a very expensive and challenging commission, also something I would never turn down; and three, regardless of the past, your father has served his time and I wish him well.”

“But…”

“But nothing. It’s been ten years, Draco. I am not the idealistic child I once was who saw people as completely good or wholly bad. With the exception of Tom Riddle, everyone has light and darkness inside of them and my job is to give them a way to find out who they are through magic. I have moved on from the war; I have accepted the past and my role in it but I think most importantly, at least for this conversation, I have learned to forgive.”

“Forgive? Really?”

“Unconditionally. The only way for me to be happy is to not hold on to the hurt of the past. The way I was treated was something that was quite standard in certain circles back then. I am thankful that that is no longer the case and I know you have a lot to do with those changes. So yes, you are forgiven Draco and so is your father. Now, enough of this mushy stuff. You might have gone soft, but I haven’t. When is Lucius’s release date? I need to set up a crafting schedule and talk to Seamus.”

“23 rd February.” Draco stated, still reeling from the forgiveness and the abrupt subject change  _ and _ the fact that Granger thought he’d gone soft. “I’ll try and get you in to see him next week.”

“Great. Do you want more tea or do you need to get back to Scorpius?”

“Oh… erm… I should get back. Padma isn’t used to spending time with Scorp, just the two of them yet. Ever since Astoria passed, it’s all I can do to get him to talk to the witches I see, never mind be affectionate.”

“He’ll come around. Kids are resilient. And the amethyst in his wand should soothe whatever he worries about. Treat it with lavender oil if the effects aren’t strong enough.”

“Thanks Granger. You’re something else, you know that?”

Hermione smiled fondly.

“I’ll see you to the floo. Say ‘hi’ to that adorable kid of yours for me. He’s so much more polite than you ever were.”

“Hey! What happened to unconditional forgiveness?”

“Yeah, forgiveness, not forgetfulness.”

“That’s a very Slytherin distinction, Granger.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.” Hermione grinned. “I’ll await your owl about visiting old Luci.”

“Please, don’t call him that. At least, not to his face.”

Hermione laughed.

“I’ll think about it. See ya, Malfoy.”

“Thank you though. Seriously Granger.”

Hermione nodded as she watched him disappear into the green flames, wondering what she was getting herself into. She’d been honest with Draco; she had forgiven him. The past was the past and that was where it had to stay, lest old prejudices ruin bright young futures but still… Lucius Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's time to bring the main pairing together for the first time in almost ten years. I was going to wait, and post this in a few days but I couldn't. It's a change of pace from chapter 1 but normal 'fluff & sweetness' service will be resumed in C3. Enjoy! And please comment!
> 
> The names of Hermione's trainers in her masteries are names for a couple of my favourite authors: @LissaDream and @Snowblind12. thank you ladies for all the work you put into the Snamione and Lumione fandoms.

The owl from Draco Malfoy came four days after Christmas; four very long and challenging days. Hermione was in her workshop when it arrived, finishing off a pair of duelling wands that had taken most of December to craft and were due to be owled out the next day to the newest contestant in the Ultimate Duelling Championship who was making his debut at the Shanghai event.

Boxing Day had been spent at the Burrow, visiting with the Weasleys and consoling Ron over his most recent break-up. There had been a tearful and needy round of pity sex which seemed to buoy Ron’s spirits a little and give Hermione the ever elusive closure than went hand-in-hand with staying friends with an ex. The truth was, as lovers, they had parted amicably after six months of attempting a relationship. They were just too much like family to see each other in a true romantic light. ‘Back-sliding’ or ‘sex with an ex’ wasn’t something Hermione really condoned but Ron had seemed so utterly broken and was not responding to her carefully worded logic. She couldn’t just let him wallow so she used the only thing she knew he would respond positively to: a kiss to the neck, a hand on the thigh.

It’s not always true that getting over someone is as easy as getting under someone else but it seemed to help patch Ron’s confidence back together, if not his broken heart, so Hermione considered the dent to feminism worth it. The next day Molly had shouted at her for ‘messing with Ron’s emotions’ but by then Hermione had started thinking of other things, like the Malfoy commission and wasn’t willing to hear it, telling the pushy matriarch to be grateful that Ron had regained his appetite and was bathing again.

She had left late morning to enjoy the after-Christmas sales in London and then had dinner with Luna and Rolf Scamander, who had six-month old twins to deal with and seemed very tired and incapable of their usual friendly, if slightly odd, banter. Hermione gave them their gifts with a smile, knowing they would be appreciated – moonstone spheres which emitted soft, sleepy vibes for the babies’ bedroom and a large pack of nappies. Rolf almost cried; Luna gave her a huge hug and whispered that she had surely been sent to earth from Merlin himself.

The evening and the following two days had been spent at her shop working on orders and mentally planning out Lucius’s staff. She expected him to want it to look elaborate, although she assumed being in prison for almost ten years could change any man, even one of his aristocratic upbringing; so she really was at square one until she met with him.

Hermione looked at the clock as she went to the window, letting in the bird and detaching the note: 8am. She must have worked all night. Not exactly a new occurrence but as she unfolded the note from the majestic eagle owl, her stomach grumbled from the lack of attention she’d given it.

_ Granger, _

_ I managed to speak with one of the wardens at Azkaban and as she was a Slytherin from the year above my father at school, I was able to pull that string. The only time she could get you in was today as she has a week off from tomorrow. 12pm. Morgana Selwyn. She said she’d sit with you and my father if you want her to. _

_ Sorry about the short notice and thanks again, so much, for doing this. _

  1. _Malfoy_



_ P.S. I’ve attached the picture you asked for of me and Scorpius _

“Oh my God, this is actually happening.” Hermione said to her toaster, having walked to the kitchen whilst reading. Living above her shop was really useful sometimes. “I can’t believe I’m about to go meet Lucius Malfoy. For a job, of all things. I must be mad.”

She could admit to herself that she was nervous as she multi-tasked eating toast and putting together her analysis kit. She preferred to have clients come to the shop but in some cases, like this one, that just wasn’t a possibility, so she’d created a mobile kit of things she needed – four large selenite pillars, a specially charmed laptop to record results and a testing wand which when held by the client, measured what would be most effective for them.

At 11 o’clock, Hermione apparated to just outside the Azkaban wards. They were thick, heavy and oppressive causing Hermione to struggle to catch her breath. It felt like she was trespassing as she passed through the dense magic that secured the prison which, coupled with the high, frigid and icy winds, reminded her of being in the Black Lake in her fourth year for the second task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Had it only been four days since she was laughing and joking with Harry about teaching him ‘accio’.

The warmth that type of memory would usually manifest failed to come and even though there were no longer dementors around, Hermione was strongly reminded that the imprint of their old presence lingered still. The wind cut through her winter cloak which she held tighter to herself, making her way towards the entrance.

“Miss Granger?” asked a raven-haired witch in straight, navy blue robes.

“Ms Selwyn?” Hermione returned, whilst nodding to confirm her identity.

“That’s right. Draco told me you needed to come by. My apologies for not allowing you more notice but not all of the staff allow visitors to ex-Death Eaters and I’m away for a week after today.”

“Not to worry, Ms Selwyn. I understand scheduling difficulties, not to mention how the tide of prejudice has turned so completely against ex-Death Eaters. I do not share their views though.”

“Quite right. A war against prejudice really should wipe out all prejudice, not just the one that started the conflict. Though, so few people see it like that. You are quite an unusual muggle-born witch, I must say. So willing to help those who…”

“Please…” Hermione interrupted, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence as the other witch held the entrance door open for her. “I understand your confusion. Sometimes, my ability to forgive makes me think I’m losing my own sanity but then I remember that if I choose to hold onto all that anger and pain, I would be living a life of darkness and hate. That is what started the war in the first place. I admit I’m a little nervous about facing Mr. Malfoy again but I don’t really know what to expect so I am trying very hard to keep an open mind”

“I think that is a very sensible approach, Miss Granger.” The warden said in a friendly tone as they ascended the stairs. “Speaking of sensible, Draco mentioned he didn’t want Lucius to know what was going on. Do you have a cover story in mind?”

“Oh yes, that was all rather simple to construct. As I’m sure you know, prisoners have to have their magic tested before being released, to make sure their sentence hasn’t damaged it at all, ‘use it or lose it’ as an old muggle saying goes. The Head Auror has given me special permission to use my testing to confirm those results for them, so it’s not even a real cover story, just a doubly intentioned visit.”

“Ah ha, I see having an in with Harry Potter has come in useful.” Morgana chuckled. “Although it’s a very Slytherin approach.”

“He’s been working with Draco too long.”

Both witches laughed.

“Well, here we are.  _ Cell 252. Lucius Malfoy _ .” She read off the metal sign on the door. “He knows you’re coming. Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s ok. I’m afraid your energy would skew the testing. I’ll knock when I’m ready to come out. About an hour?”

Morgana Selwyn nodded in understanding and unlocked the door by both physical and magical means.

…

Inside the cell, Hermione looked around as she heard the lock click to re-secure the room. It was ten feet square with another door that she assumed led to a bathroom. Almost like a desolate and shabby little hotel room. A single cot sat to the far right corner and upon it sat the gaunt form of Lucius Malfoy – unrecognisable to Hermione in comparison to her memories of the once proud and pompous wizard.

His once straight back had been replaced by a hunched over posture; the signature, long platinum hair was matted and lacked any kind of shine or life. He was a shell and Hermione felt an unbidden need arise to cry for him. She doubted that would be appreciated though, not to mention she was meant to be here in a professional capacity, so she swirled her occlumency shields into place until the feeling passed. Empathy was a blessing in wand-making but a curse in dealing with ex-enemies who looked so pathetic.

She cleared her throat to alert him to her presence but he didn’t move.

“Mr Malfoy?” She asked tentatively, wondering if this would be more difficult that she’d anticipated.

He didn’t respond.

“Mr Malfoy, I’ve been sent by the Ministry to assess your magic for your release next month. Are you up to talking a little?”

Hermione felt completely out of her element. The magic that made Azkaban impenetrable and inescapable without the correct means was closing in on her. Malfoy was acting like a statue and she was wondering if she’d have to slap Draco again for doing this to her. Lucius still hadn’t answered her.

“Mr Malfoy, please…” she begged. “I’m trying to help you.”

She waited another few moments before giving up on the talking; she didn’t need him to speak in order to do her assessment; she just got more insight to act instinctively when crafting.

“Ok, well I suppose you don’t have to talk to me. I’m going to set up anyway. Co-operation would have yielded stronger results but I’m good at my job and your compliance isn’t necessary.” She spoke calmly, trying to make it sound like she was not baiting him into a response as she wandlessly summoned the large selenite pillars from her work bag and placed them in the four corners of the small room. “It’s a shame though, I’d assume intelligent conversation was sorely lacking here.”

That last bit might have been over-stepping on the ‘trying to appear to not be baiting him’ front but he was being stubborn, not catatonic. She was sure of it. She’d also played on another angle, which was crossing a line – leaning over him to place the pillar in the far right corner of the room, allowed her curls to brush his face and her minimal cleavage to be in his eye line. One thing she’d learned as a crafter of instinctual magical items, not to mention finally burying the hatchet with Pansy Weasley, nee Parkinson (Mrs. Charlie Weasley at that) and learning a few Slytherin tactics was that when it came to something important, use whatever worked.

Here was a man who hadn’t been touched by a woman in at least a decade. Whilst she didn’t have the highest opinion of her appearance, she knew that her chest was ample and well-shaped, she knew her perfume was pretty and feminine and she knew when she was being checked out. A minimal tingle in her personal magic alerted her that she was being watched; a subtle side effect of having experienced a war and having highly alert senses.

“You have no shame.”

His voice was hoarse with ill-use but still held a derisiveness at its core. Hermione rolled her eyes at his words but wandlessly activated the crystals which created a cage of glowing white energy that suffused the room.

“I learned a little something from a Slytherin colleague. I thought you might appreciate the stealth play at getting you to loosen your tongue.”

He didn’t respond but wondered who she worked with. Unfortunately for him, all his thoughts within the selenite glow were less private than he would wish and his curiosity bled into her mind, softly.

“Pansy Parkinson. Although she’s a Weasley now. We work together.”

Hermione had her back to the practically unreadable man but she could picture the sneer on his face at the name ‘Weasley’.

_ ‘No Hermione. Keep an open mind. Don’t fall into old beliefs. Set an example.’ _ She told herself.

“I see. In which case, I must commend you on your little power play. It was… cute.”

His voice was a little stronger now but still hoarse. She held in her snort.

“Would you like some water? You sound a little dry.”

She was facing him again now as she set up her laptop and used a usb lead to connect it to the testing wand. His eyes focused on what she was doing, rather than on her. Hermione felt like he was trying to prove the point that she hadn’t affected him with her…  _ cute power play _ .

“That would be appreciated, Miss Granger.”

The witch took a pebble from her pocket and transfigured it into a glass with the wand attached to the muggle thing before casting an aquamenti charm to fill it with cool water.

He drained half the glass when she handed it to him before speaking again.

“Thank you.” He sounded smoother. “Pebbles?”

“Useful for transfiguration when there’s nothing else around.”

She had returned to the muggle device and was scanning some sort of screen.

“Ok. Those two spells have set a baseline for the wand so I know what to look for in your readings. If you can cast the same spells, I’ll be able to make a comparison then I’ll get you to cast different types of spell in order, so I can catalogue the results on here.”

She patted the laptop.

“How did you get a muggle device to work with magic?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“A lot of practice and hard work. It’s what the pillars are for, sort of. They actually do a lot of different things. Firstly, they inhibit the magic dampening field on the room, allowing us both to cast spells, although they’re attuned to my magic so only I can work wandlessly in their area of effect. Secondly, they emit a low empathic frequency to allow me to ‘read the magic’ more comprehensively. A sequence of runes on the laptop and on the wand allows that empathy to create harmony between magic and electricity. It was the basis of my Rune Mastery thesis.”

“You’ve been busy in the last ten years. Who did you apprentice with for your rune Mastery?”

“Madame Snow. Although, it was actually a double mastery; the Charms one was completed with Madame Dean. They own a small Mastery Academy in America. Then I sort of bribed Professor Snape into letting me train as a Potions Master under him too; not that he was happy about it.”

“He’s alive?” Lucius gasped.

“Yes; hence the ‘sort of’ bribery. Life debts are really annoying. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Draco never mentioned it when he visited?”

“Draco has yet to visit me and now that my time here is coming to an end, I doubt he will. Tell me, how is he?” Lucius responded in a slightly hollow voice; the empathy field telling her that what he was feeling was ‘shame’. Suddenly, she wanted to hit Draco again as a wave of pity overcame her once more for the man in front of her and she wanted to cry.

Hermione took a deep breath to steady her emotions and return to a professional demeanour.

“I saw him on Christmas Day. He seems well enough. He’s working as an auror. He was married on his 21 st birthday and you have a grandson named Scorpius –  _ Scorpius Lucius Malfoy _ . Sadly, Draco was widowed when Scorpius was three years old. Astoria seemed to just waste away from some curse on her magical core; the healers seemed to think it was hereditary but Daphne’s fine so I’m not so sure. I went to the funeral, seeing as I knew her through Pansy and I made Scorpius his junior wand a couple of years later but I’m not very well informed on them other than what I hear through Harry and the papers. I’m sorry.”

Lucius nodded, taking in all she had said before what she mentioned last registered as confusing in his mind.

“You made my grandson a wand? I thought you worked for the Ministry. Isn’t that why you’re here? Also, he was five at the time. Why would he have a wand at such a young age?”

Hermione knew she had to tread carefully.

“In answer to your question about being here for the Ministry, it’s a bit of a ‘yes and no’ situation. I’m here on behalf of the Ministry as a favour to Draco. We pulled some strings with Harry and whoever Draco knows here. I’m a wand maker. I took over the business from Ollivander when he retired, although I have different methods to him, as you can see.” She patted her laptop again. “As for Scorpius’s wand, I found a way to limit how much magic a wand is willing to process with the use of crystals. It adds a safety feature and allows for a low amount of magical energy to travel from wizard to wand without having enough power to cause damage. It’s for practice, like toy brooms and has practically brought accidental magic down to non-existence. Five is as young as I sell for but I have a number of other products with similar effects for babies and toddlers.”

“Impressive, Miss Granger. Ollivander was never one to step outside his comfort zone of three wand cores and the thirteen sacred trees. However that still doesn’t answer my question regarding why it is  _ you _ conducting this appraisal of my magic.”

Hermione huffed. She thought she’d answered rather well but pushed on regardless.

“I am here because Draco wanted me to be. We’re not exactly close but he knows how well I read magic; he knows that I am thorough, accurate and unbiased. I believe he still feels rather guilty about events of the past and is trying to, I don’t know, help foster some sort of… something. I’ll be honest, I have no idea why he really wanted me to do this other than he knows I can. Maybe to give you some peace of mind… whatever you may think of me, he knows I’ll be professional and efficient.”

Lucius’s back had straightened by now, his eyes surveyed her more shrewdly and his voice had evened out to what she remembered as a teenager. He wasn’t speaking harshly but seemed a lot more ‘with it’ than he had at the beginning. She watched his chest expand as he inhaled deeply before subtly deflating with the acceptance of her words.

“Very well. How should we begin this assessment?”

“Ok. If you join me here in the centre of the room and take hold of the wand. I’ll pass you a pebble to transfigure and we can go from there.”

She watched him stand and amble on slightly unsteady legs towards her. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how broad in the shoulders. How menacing she had once found him. She refused to be cowed now however; it wouldn’t do to let him see that he was affecting her in any way; not in an intimidating way that made her legs a little jelly-like, not in a ‘wow, he has so much presence’ way which was making her pulse race; nor in the ‘dear sweet Merlin, he’s gorgeous when he’s all rough-looking’ way that made certain clenching happen without her permission.

‘ _ Get it together, Hermione. He’s Lucius Malfoy, for fuck’s sake. You will not let him have this effect on you. _ ’

During her appraisal, he had moved into position and taken hold of the wand, rolling it around in his palm and allowing a wistful look to pass over his face. She only just caught it but imagined it was the first time he’d felt his magic in a long time. Now, though he was looking at her with a slight smirk and she knew her mild ogling had been caught.

_ Damn. _

“Do you see something you like, Miss Granger?” He asked, almost leeringly.

_ Oh, the smugness. She hadn’t missed that at all. _

“I neither like nor dislike what I see, Mr Malfoy. Your appearance is of no consequence to my testing.” She answered robotically, if slightly pink cheeked.”  _ There. Recovered… flawlessly. Almost. _

“If you say so.” He answered, not believing her for a moment, she could tell.

_ Double damn. _

“Let’s just get on, shall we? Here’s the pebble… remember, transfigure into a glass, then fill with water.”

“Yes, Miss Granger. My memory has been unaffected by my stay here.”

He cast the spells wordlessly whilst Hermione ruminated over what he’d said of his memory. Was there more to his words? Was he telling her he would remember that he’d made her blush? Surely not. A man like Lucius Malfoy was not about to feel self-satisfied over making the likes of Hermione Granger blush.

He cleared his throat, bringing her back to the room.

“All done? Excellent. Why don’t you have a seat and drink that water whilst I compare these results to my magic and adjust the wand calibration.”

He mumbled something she didn’t quite catch as she was already absorbed in the readings on the computer programme. It was as she expected, strong blood magic with little drawn from outside influences. There was no positive or negative effect coming from the dark mark which she knew still scarred his forearm but there was a faint foreign pulse of energy coming from it which the crystals had picked up on.

She hadn’t told him half of what they actually do. Including that they also had the harmony runes for bringing magic and electricity together carved into them, or that they had electronic body scanners, disillusioned, in them which read magical pulses, body heat, magical core strength and from where in the body certain spells came from. Dark spells for example, all came from the mind, loving spells from the heart, almost everything else from the solar plexus.

“Interesting. This base analysis tells me that your magic is functioning but there’s…

“Eugh” He exclaimed after spitting out the water he had just taken. “What in Hades have you done to my magic? This water tastes disgusting.”

“Hmmm… let me try it.”

She walked over to him and took the glass from his hand, sipping at the apparently foul tasting water. It was too. Absolutely hideous.

“Curious. Very curious. Tastes… earthy. Hints of… sulphur, I think.” She took another sip. “Yes, definitely sulphur… and a very faint trace of… is that….?” Another sip. “Oh Merlin, that’s henbane. Mr. Malfoy, you’ve been cursed and your magic has been poisoned.”

“What?” He asked in a raised voice. Not quite shouting but clearly angry. With the way he looked at the moment, it was quite a deranged appearance.

“I’m quite certain, I assure you. The sulphur is an indication of the curse. I noticed a slight foreign pulse coming from your dark mark; definitely not your magic; completely different signature; slower, sluggish, like tar in your energy but only focused on that spot. The earthy taste is from the crystal energy field, nothing I can do about that but the sulphur taste is definitely dark magic. Tastes… like a witch’s work. Women favour poisoning. Be that by curse or herb.”

“How can you tell?” Lucius demanded to know. He was feeling fear unlike anything he had known since the Dark Lord was around and he didn’t like that one bit.

“Something Dumbledore told Harry once… ‘Magic, especially dark magic, leaves traces. This taste of sulphur is the trace of a curse placed on your…” Hermione suddenly stopped speaking, her eyes moving rapidly as she focused on something in her head.

Lucius wished he could use legilimency.

“How long has your left forearm been numb?” she suddenly asked with surety.

“How on earth did you know that…?”

“Just answer the question. It’s important.”

“Since the 2 nd of May 1998. The day the Dark Lord fell and I was arrested and brought here.”

“And who was it that arrested you?”

“Amelia Bones.”

“Not possible. Amelia Bones died at Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand early in the battle. I fear we have our culprit but I don’t understand how. I saw Molly Weasley blow Bellatrix up; literally blast her into a thousand pieces.”

“What makes you think it’s Bella?”

“That bitch’s magic is inside me. I know it as well as I know my own. The crucio curse she cast on me was wand to skin; her magic invaded mine. Then the lovely carving she gave me to decorate  _ my forearm _ sealed her magic in my body and acted as a bonding agent so it melded and merged the two. I use the magic of a crystal cave to keep me cleansed of its effects but I can still feel it.

“I had no idea. Do you believe she is still alive?”

“I do. It’s the only possibility of how you could receive a curse from her after she apparently died. She must have reformed somehow and glamoured herself to look like Amelia Bones. I can inform Harry and Draco; get the aurors working on it. Was she truly crazy… or was it all an act?”

Lucius looked both pensive and thoughtful as he considered her question. Bellatrix had certainly dialled the ‘crazy’ up to 11 for effect but even at the best of times, she was  _ actually  _ unhinged. Especially after Azkaban.

“She was certainly crazy about the Dark Lord. In love with him by all accounts, despite her marriage. There was a definite ‘unhinged’ quality to her psyche but I do not think she was as ‘out of her mind’ as she would have us all believe.”

“Ok. Well, I had rendered her magical effect on my energy as obsolete for this testing but perhaps I should re-include it to balance what she has done to you. Let’s see...”

Lucius watched as the young witch pressed buttons on the machine and studied whatever the screen was telling her. She bit at her bottom lip as she concentrated; squinted if something didn’t look right and rolled her eyes when it was right. Then there were the little noises she made: “hmmm” or “ah ha” and his personal favourite “ooooo”, where she pursed her lips into a little ‘o’ and her eye lit up with discovery.

“I think I have an idea but I need to ask you something important first.”

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

That was a very loaded question to ask of an inmate who had once tried to kill his questioner but he considered the situation he was in. She was here, in his cell, of her own volition, at the request of his son, appraising him to be sure he was ‘fit’ for returning to the outside world. He supposed in theory, he had to trust her to some extent.

“I do not believe I have much choice, given the circumstances.”

“You misunderstand me. I don’t mean a ‘given the circumstances’ kind of trust. It has to be a real trust. The kind that is usually formed over years, not minutes. The ‘I trust you with my life’ kind of trust?”

“In that case, of course I do not. Could not. Given our history, opposing sides of a war, the fact that you were tortured on my drawing room floor, the list goes on…”

“Exactly. I’m going to extract several memories which I hope will ease the way for that trust, fast, and place them in your head. I swear upon my magic that these memories are completely true and untampered with.”

He nodded, and then watched as Hermione Granger placed a different wand to her head and extracted a long wisp of silvery substance from her hairline. The wand hovered over his head before the not-quite-gas-not-quite-liquid dripped into his mind.

What followed was a series of scenes, the first being Hermione, Ron and Harry saving Draco from the burning Room of Requirement; then Draco’s trial in which Hermione had secured both Narcissa’s and Draco’s freedom; next was his own trial and the private testimony Hermione had given that he had been ineffectual in all tasks Voldemort had set for him, wandless for the entirety of the war and the clincher… saying that if she had been in his position, she would have done exactly the same thing to protect her family. The Wizengamot member had considered her testimony as gospel and explained that whilst he could not allow no sentence, he would recommend bringing the term of incarceration down from life to ten years.

The last scene to play in his mind was of Hermione standing in a forest setting, surrounded by trees…

_ She stood near to a large oak tree, her palm resting against the rough, gnarled bark, her eyes closed and her hair loose, sparking with energy. _

_ “I think it’s this one…” she said quietly to someone he couldn’t see. _

_ “Really? Oak? That’s surprising.” Draco said, stepping into her eye line. _

_ “It’s singing because he’s here. Trust me.” _

_ “Do you think his full wand will be oak when he’s eleven too?” _

_ “Maybe. Most wand woods match to the junior wands but not always. It’s like the difference between patronus and animagus forms. If he wants to cut the branch himself, he can; it’ll strengthen the connection.” _

_ “Scorpius…” _

_ Lucius watched with bated breath for the first glimpse of his grandson. The familial similarities were almost comical. The short, spiky but quite obvious Malfoy-platinum was a dead giveaway, but the steel grey eyes from Narcissa’s side shone with mercurial delight as he ran up to his father and hugged his legs. _

_ “I saw a family of bowtwuckles in a twee over there. They were so tiny.” _

_ “That’s because this is a place of magical trees, called a Grove. This is Miss Granger’s Grove. Say thank you to Miss Granger for letting you visit.” _

_ “Thank you, Miss Gwanger. Am I getting my new wand today?” _

Lucius’s heart clenched at the little lisp. It was so cute.

_ “I think that can be arranged, little man.” Hermione said, squatting down to be on Scorpius’s level. “Now, being a wand maker, I have a very special bit of magic which means the trees talk to me and this big oak here, started singing when you came to visit. That means it likes you and would like to give you one of its branches for your wand. What do you think?” _

_ “Yes pweeease. I’ve waited so long for a wand.” _

_ Hermione smiled. _

_ “Ok, now you get to pick your branch… when you get close to the right one, it’ll sing to you. Ready?” _

_ Scorpius nodded and Draco picked him up and put the boy on his shoulders. _

_ “Off you go then. And no panicking. This isn’t flying, it’s just floating.” _

_ They touched ground ten minutes later, Scorpius holding a magically severed branch out to Hermione. _

_ “This one. It’s this one. I could hear the singing weally loud and a bowtwuckle jumped off it so we could cut it down. We didn’t hurt the twee did we, Miss Gwanger?” _

_ “Not even a little bit, I promise. I grow my trees especially to give branches to little wizards like you so you can practice your magic. C’mon, let’s head back into the shop and I can get started. Do you want to stay and help?” _

_ “Yes! Yes! Yes!” _

_ Hermione and Draco chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm as the memory faded. _

“I don’t know what to say.” Lucius said, quietly. Tears in his eyes. “You are…”

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you. Thank you for giving me memories of my family that are untainted.”

“You’re welcome. Draco has become… quite a man. Respected. Appreciated.  _ Good _ . And as for Scorpius, well, as you saw, he’s quite adorable. Can’t imagine where he gets it from.” She said with a smile in her voice, winking at him.

Lucius chuckled then, genuinely happy for the first time in over thirteen years.

“I can never repay…”

“Just… trust me.”

He nodded.

“Close your eyes.”

Hermione took a deep breath; this was extremely unorthodox but given that nothing about this meeting had gone to plan and they had already crossed several professional boundaries, this wasn’t pushing it too much further - she hoped.

“I need to put my hands on you. The readings aren’t giving me enough information,” she whispered, to keep the atmosphere calm, “I can map your magic exactly with my own, very precisely considering we both have Bellatrix’s magic in our veins but it will feel rather… intimate. I’ll talk you through what I’m doing but keep your eyes closed and trust that I am not attacking you in any way. My magic gets a little fiery when I interact with someone else but this is the only way to get a full reading. Do you understand?”

Lucius nodded.

“Okay. I’m going to start at your head.” Hermione said, softly, allowing herself to hover above the floor to reach the top of his head and placing her palms gently over his platinum locks. “Hands-on reading is so much more effective but I hate to feel like I’m intruding so I don’t do it often.

Her hands glided down his hair, smoothing the knots and cleaning it, unconsciously. It was so soft, as if it couldn’t possibly ever be rough, even given the mistreatment of a decade. It slipped through her fingers like water and Hermione could feel his magic rising up to meet hers in every molecule of him she touched.

“Because I know the feeling of the foreign magic, I can differentiate between what’s yours and what’s hers. Yours feels rather… actually quite indescribable. Magic usually has a temperature or a colour or at least a state of being. Your magic feels like it should be all of them, it should be everything… hot like the fires of Hades, cool like a spring breeze, as icy as an avalanche… all the colours of the rainbow, white as sunshine through a diamond and as black as Severus Snape’s hair in the midst of a winter’s night… it should be fire, water, air and earth but it’s stilted by the curse, only coming through in little puffs of steam.”

Her hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers tensing into several knots she found there. She actually jumped when he groaned at the sensation.

“This curse has infested your magic. When you’re released, you won’t need restrictions to be placed on your abilities; the curse has already stripped you off any real power you could put into a spell…”

Her hands were moving down his arms. He was glad she was standing behind him because he was getting a little warm under her touch, a little too  _ hard _ at her delicate ministrations. It had been too long and her fingers were so gentle as they moved over his frame, he felt like he was losing his mind. Her words were only being half registered as he concentrated on not embarrassing himself.

“I can remove it, temporarily.” Her voice was closer… and in front of him now. He focused on not imagining her face if she could see his arousal. “Transfer the cursed magic to me, allow your own to replenish more healthily. I need you to stay very still though.”

_ ‘Oh, for the love of all that is magical…’ _

He could feel her breath on his face, her whispers so close. He knew there was only one way to transfer magical energy like that. He knew what she was about to do. She was going to…

Soft, warm lips touched his, so gently he thought he might be imagining them. The room was so quiet, he heard her eyelashes flutter to her cheeks as she moved her lips lightly over his. He couldn’t respond. It would interrupt the transfer of corrupted magic but it felt like the fire of a thousand suns wouldn’t hold him back if he tried.

Her hands were no longer touching him; he assumed, although not consciously that she was using a wand. At least one. Knowing her profession, she could be using two to direct the energy. He could feel himself getting lighter, his muscles loosening, his soul relaxing a little. It seemed to go on for a very long time and yet he stayed completely still, as she had asked; lips barely parted so their breath mingled whilst her lips manipulated his and he allowed her to take his corrupted magic into her own.

She was so full of goodness and light, he imagined the curse being burned by the brightness alone as it entered her system. What had he ever done to get this lucky? How had this slip of witch, muggleborn at that, come to have so much radiance, forgiveness and magic in her that she could do this to his old battered soul? It was breath-taking.

Hermione pulled back from Lucius, feeling like she’d just been hit by a bus. She was sort of controlling it but the cursed energy on top of the fact that she’d just kissed Lucius Malfoy was overwhelming. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. She had no idea if he had either but she had to get a hold on this situation before it escalated.

He couldn’t know that on top of doing her job, with an impulsive, untested (by her at least) and not exactly legal magical transfer practice, she was dripping wet and trying very hard not to pant with the strength of her need. She had to get out of here.

She heard his throat clear and felt her face flush scarlet.

_ Double damn and blast. _

“Did you get it all?”

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I… erm. Yes. Yes, I did but only the infected magic, not the source of the infection. It took ten years to get to this point and you’ll be at home in a few weeks so I doubt you’ll notice any recurrence. I’ll be able to study the infected magic in the interim and come up with a plan to completely remove the curse once you’re out.”

She was talking very fast as she started to scurry around the room and collect her things. Obviously embarrassed and rushing to leave now that she had what she needed.

He wanted the chance to thank her properly. He felt so wonderfully unburdened and he owed it all to this powerhouse of warmth, muggleborn witch who was fleeing from him. He had to do something.

He strode over to her and was at her side in two strides, turning her around to face him and pulling her into a very tight, very flush hug. He suddenly didn’t care if she felt his erection; he was rather impressed that he had one… and that it was down to her in more ways than one.

“Mr…”

“I think it’s about time you call me Lucius.” He said smoothly, dropping a kiss into the top of her curly head.

“Lucius…” His grip around her tightened at hearing her say his name. “If you’re touching me, I can’t hold the corrupted magic. It’s sentient; it’s trying to return to you.”

Reluctantly, he let her go and allowed her to pack up her laptop and tester wand.

“I should go. I need to get back to the shop and run some tests on myself… I left the wand running to record data and I was holding it during the transfer so…”

“Hermione. I’d like to take you to dinner when I am released. To say thank you for all your help. For forgiving me, forgiving Draco. Being kind to my grandson. Will you allow me the privilege?”

Hermione's heart felt like it was about to beat itself out her chest. She couldn’t really say no to such a request, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t.

She smiled tentatively, her face flaming.

“I think I would find that very pleasant. But  _ after  _ we get all this curse business sorted out.”

“Agreed. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to kiss you back.”

“That was not a kiss, it was an energy transfer.” Hermione said with enough conviction to almost believe what she was saying. “But next time my lips are on yours, if you don’t kiss me back, I’ll show you what a real curse is.”

With those parting words, she turned in a flourish of robes reminiscent of Severus Snape and banged on the door to return to the outside world, leaving a chuckling Lucius Malfoy alone in his cell with the first erection he’d had in a decade.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say a huge thank you to @TanzaniteWrites for her help, inspiration and support whilst I've been writing this story. It's why I have gifted it to her as she is so excited for it and also acting as an Alpha type reader for it. She's seen what's so far in C4.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it. Comments and kudos are as always, welcome.

Hermione materialised out of her apparition with a crack loud enough to break the sound barrier. The only thought of  _ destination _ in her mind as she twisted from the icy, wind-ravaged island of the prison, was ‘away’. She’d had no other thought than leaving; escaping the suffocation of oppressive security magic and the hellish snow storm that had begun during her visit; escaping the skin-crawling thought of Bellatrix Lestrange’s curse attacking her magic. More overwhelming than all of those horrid circumstances though, was the feeling of her lips on those of Lucius Malfoy and the deep, curling desire to have him return ‘the kiss’.

It had all hit her at once when she left the prison wards and panic was a reaction that set in deep with this witch, short-circuiting her usual logical mind and as much as she would like to be able to remind herself that it was all in the line of duty, an act of professionalism; as much as she wanted to believe she had behaved in the only way possible to do what had to be done, that it was the only way to give him any relief, it wasn’t the truth. She could’ve placed a hand over his faded dark mark and drew the cursed magic out that way; it would’ve been painful for him but certainly less intimate. She could even have removed the cursed magic with her wand, siphoned it out of him like  _ scourgify. _ Granted, that would have left him vomiting a tar-like substance into the cell but there would be less… confusion now.

_ What have I done? _

She had chosen to be closer to him, to perform the only procedure for removing cursed magic which was quick, efficient and painless, and would offer him no ill-effects. Except for the erection she’d felt when he held her to him at the end of their meeting. If she needed any proof, if  _ he  _ needed proof that she had truly forgiven him, then her actions had provided it in spades and his  _ reaction _ was proof that he more than accepted it.

It took her several moments, mind hammering with new knowledge as it was, returned fears crunching her gut at the thought of a returned Bellatrix Lestrange and strange desires revolving around the dishevelled visage and chapped lips of Lucius Malfoy, to realise where she was. The scent of salty sea air soothed her soul with an encompassing feel of safety, even as an unexpected wave of melancholy hit her, seemingly out of nowhere.

The sand and shingle beach that surrounded Shell Cottage registered as familiar; she looked around for recognisable features and found the grave marker of Dobby’s final resting place. Her location finally identified, Hermione fell to her knees in damp sand and allowed all of her emotions to flood through her.

She wept for the losses of the past, cried with fears old and new, and howled at the anguish she had created for herself. From one short visit to Azkaban, her life was suddenly a mess. She was crushing on Lucius Malfoy, possibly had the most notorious death eater alive and well, with foreign dark magic coursing through her system.

There were very few places she felt comfortable decompressing like this; letting everything out and just giving herself over to feeling overwhelmed and scared was something she rarely felt capable of allowing herself the freedom for. Her Grove was one such place but she didn’t want to risk allowing Bellatrix’s curse loose there; the Crystal Cave, which was magically hidden in the depths of Wales was another. Shell Cottage was the third and last. Bill Weasley was an amazing friend; supportive, kind, and strong enough to let her fall apart. She had recovered here from her torture at Malfoy Manor ten years ago; she had spent time here, testing out the first set of duelling wands she had made; not to mention, Bill had helped her test the junior wands for all the dark spells he knew. As a curse breaker, that was rather a lot.

“Auntie, Mi, Auntie Mi!” A girl’s voice screeched excitedly into the wind as its owner, nine year old Victoire Weasley ran towards the clearly distressed woman in the sand.

Hermione was suddenly enveloped in witchling arms and sobbed all the harder for the support, heedless of the fact that the hug came from a child who wouldn’t understand the upset.

“You’re crying, Auntie Mi.” Victoire said innocently. “You never cry. What’s wrong?”

“Oh sweetheart!” Hermione sobbed in response. “I’m ok, I promise. Will you go and get your…”

“Victoire Gabrielle Weasley!” Bill Weasley shouted, running after his daughter. “You do not run outside when the wards breach and… Hermione! What on earth happened to you? Vic, go and tell your mum to come out here now! Then stay inside and keep an eye on your brother and sister.

“Love you Auntie Mi.” Victoire said with a final squeeze around Hermione’s neck before following her father’s instructions; some instinctual need to soothe her favourite Auntie taking over.

Bill knelt at Hermione’s side and offered her a hug as his daughter ran up to the house. Not knowing what was wrong; who had hurt Hermione was niggling at his mind and setting his inner-wolf’s teeth on edge. He considered Hermione ‘pack’ and wanted to tear limbs from whoever had made her feel this way. She was usually so strong, so in control of everything. It was unnerving to see her like this.

“Merlin, Hermione. You’re freezing. You’re shaking. Who did this to you?”

Hermione relaxed into Bill’s warm embrace and sobbed harder, finding it impossible to speak.

“It’s ok. You’re safe now. I promise you’re safe. Fleur’s on her way down. We’ll get you inside and warmed up. How does a nice hot cup of tea sound?”

“Firewhiskey.” She croaked.

It was so hard for him not to chuckle at that. The witch never touched a drop of alcohol. He looked over her body to check if any of her clothes were torn or misshapen; he checked her neck and wrists for marks but there was nothing. Whatever had happened didn’t appear to be physical. He felt at a loss a complete loss to help her.

“’Ermione?” Fleur called as she hurried towards her husband and friend. “What is wrong? What has happened?”

“I don’t know.” Bill answered. “Vic found her like this when the wards went off. She can barely speak. Help me get her up and into the house.”

Between the two of them, Bill and Fleur helped Hermione to her feet and inside the house. Their cottage had changed very little in the last ten years, except for magical expansions as their family grew. Hermione had watched it grow and considered it very like the Burrow in the respect that it magically grew to accommodate the family that inhabited it and matched them in a way that nothing but sentient sympathetic magic could explain.

Fleur settled the younger witch onto one of the cream leather sofas and sat beside her friend whilst Bill made the drinks. They could hear the distant voice of Victoire telling her younger siblings, in a demanding little French accent, to stay upstairs over the faint sound of waves rolling in through the open window.

“She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she?” Hermione commented quietly; her sobs having softened to sniffles; the shaking subsiding now she was out of the wind.

“She already is.” Bill answered with good humour, handing the witches their drinks. “She’s taking after her mother.” He winked at his wife, sitting down on the other side of Hermione.

“And Godmother.” Fleur added, squeezing the arm tighter that she’d wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders.

Hermione smiled a little at that and took a sip of her firewhiskey; the burn was a beautiful tonic to her dithering insides. She had been so proud when Fleur asked her to consider being Victoire’s Godmother. It was just barely a year after the war that the first Weasley grandchild had blessed the world with her presence; soft downy blonde hair, so fine it barely existed, and Bill’s ocean deep, sparkling blue eyes; the famous Weasley freckles just smattering over her tiny nose in swirling constellation patterns.

“I loved that day. She’s so precious.” Hermione whispered. “I’m glad she has a bit of my… well, whatever it is she’s taken after me for. Probably got a lot of her grandmothers’ fire too.”

“Oh yeah, Mum’s definitely in there. When she puts her hands on her hips, I swear it’s like being back at the Burrow.”

“No-one would think it of her but ma mere is also quite formidable.”

“I’m surrounded…” Bill said in mock surprise, like it wasn’t an inside joke until Louis had been born.

“And I know you wouldn’t have it any other way, William.” Fleur teased lovingly, her French accent softened from living in Britain for so long.

Hermione smiled a little more. She loved Bill and Fleur as a couple. They were always so warm with each other; she’d never heard a crossed word between them and she’d spent a lot of time at Shell Cottage when she first returned to England from gaining her masteries. Bill had helped her understand what effect dark magic had on the wand of a caster and how different wands gave different ‘qualities’ to a curse. Fleur had allowed the younger witch to examine her veela-hair core wand and ask extensive questions about how it differed from other cores. These interactions had also helped Hermione brush up on her conversational French and after six months, the witches spoke fluently to each other; much to the annoyance of everyone around them who couldn’t understand what they were always giggling about without a translation spell.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” Bill asked as Hermione drained the last few drops of firewhiskey from the crystal tumbler.

“Getting there, I think. I still feel a little… I don’t know, misplaced. I didn’t even focus on coming here when I apparated. I just had to get away from  _ there _ .”

“Where did you apparate from?” Fleur asked, curious.

Hermione took a deep breath before answering.

“Azkaban. I went to visit a prisoner who is due for release soon, about a new wand. His family requested the visit.”

Bill and Fleur shared a knowing look.

“That explains some of the state you’re in then.” Bill offered. “When the dementors were destroyed, the whole island was saturated in their remains. I probably shouldn’t tell you this – trade secrets of a curse breaker and all – but dementors are a race from the void between body and soul; they lack a true physical presence, appearing wraith-like obviously but lacking souls of their own they have no filter to experience or recognise joy. That empty, hollow feeling they evoke in humans is their equivalent of a soul. It spreads the same way our emotions do, by proximity. Even when their ‘lives’, for the want of a better word, were doused, the proximity still has the same power, though less pronounced.”

“Why couldn’t they just burn what was left? It’s still inhumane to have that kind of power being used.” Hermione asked more strongly; some of her usual fire for the rights of others returning.

“Because burning such a large amount of dangerous energy would release it into the atmosphere, to the public. They were originally called forth from the void by alchemy and you know the truest rule of alchemy, I’m sure…?”

“Nothing is ever truly gone, it is only transformed… either by nature, by time or by magic.” She finished; paraphrasing what she’d read in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library, fifteen years ago.

“Exactly Hermione. Which means the power of the dementors would have transformed from being only effective when in proximity to being carried on the wind; being… what’s that word you told me about some muggle diseases?”

“Airborne.”

“Yes, the dementors’ power would have been airborne, through the smoke of the fires. So, the Ministry decided that as removing the dementors from Azkaban meant prison would be less of a deterrent, this was the best compromise.”

“I guess I can see the wisdom in that, even if I don’t like it. Azkaban without the threat of misery is practically just like a muggle prison. Not the best place to keep dangerous wizards.”

Hermione sighed unhappily. Some of the wizarding laws and practices still grated on her muggle upbringing but she was learning to accept that some things had to work differently because magic was a game changer when it came to morality, justice and human rights.

“All of this only explains some of how you turned up though. What else has happened?” Bill asked, returning to his friendly inquisition.

“Erm, I don’t think I’m ready to go into all that for a little bit. I still feel sort of disorientated. Would it be ok if I have a bath whilst I’m here? I need to warm up properly and set my mind back to rights before I can talk about it logically.”

“But of course, ‘Ermione. You can use our en-suite so you are not disturbed by the children. Would you like me to find you a robe for afterwards or will you redress in your own things?” Fleur offered, giving her friend a hug.

“I’ll just cleanse my things with scourgify. Thanks Fleur.”

“I’ll put the kettle on when you come down then. You and more than one firewhiskey is a recipe for more than you can handle right now.”

“Mhmm,” was all the response he got from Hermione as she made her way up the stairs, a slight blush on her cheeks.

…

Her memory hadn’t fully flared when she passed through Bill and Fleur’s bedroom to bathe, despite the prompt of Bill’s parting comment, that the last time she had been at the cottage, she had shared their bed. It had been a gift from Bill to Fleur for their tenth anniversary; veela apparently had no preference when it came to gender and the older witch had expressed interest for several years before the couple had finally created a short list of who they could ask. Hermione had been their first choice, and she had shyly agreed after a very reassuring conversation that it was a one-off and would never interfere with her close friendship with either of them.

Feeling very refreshed after her bath, she touched the bedspread with a fond smile as she passed back through to the landing, remembering.

“Hi Auntie Mi. Do you feel better now?” Victoire asked, making Hermione jump out of her reminiscences.

“Hi Vic. I feel much better now, thank you. How are you getting on with your wand?”

“It’s so great being able to do magic. I turned Louis’s hair blue on Christmas Eve. He looked just like Teddy. And Dommy used hers at Christmas dinner to make Nana Molly’s apron strings come loose. It was so funny.”

Hermione chuckled along with her god-daughter and greeted the other children with hugs and kisses when they came into the room.

“And how’s my favourite nephew?” Hermione asked little Louis, picking him up and tickling him so he giggled. He squealed and laughed and begged her to stop but the girls just egged her on.

“Am I really your favourite, Auntie Mi?” Louis asked when he was finally put down.

“Well, I love everyone the same really but you and Roxy are the youngest and if I always pick the youngest as my favourite then everyone has been my favourite at least once.”

“Not sure I like that logic.” Bill said from the doorway. “Being the oldest, I was the ‘favourite’ for the shortest amount of time if anyone else thinks that way. It also means I was never  _ your _ favourite.”

“You’re my favourite curse-breaker if that’s any consolation.” Hermione answered with a smirk. “But I can’t deny the truth; my favourite Weasley will always be Ron. We went through too much for him not to be.”

“Well I think you’re the only witch who’d be able to rank us all.” Bill answered with a wink.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” she answered in mock snippiness, blushing.

“I’m not wrong though, am I?”

She could hear the smirk as she pushed passed him and out the door, shaking her head in fond amusement.

“C’mon kids; all downstairs now. Your mum’s made lunch.”

When Hermione entered the kitchen, the table was laid for seven, so she assumed she was staying but was curious who the extra place was for. It became painfully obvious when the floo roared with green flames a few moments later that Harry had been coerced into joining them.

The look of concern on his face made it obvious that her dramatic and emotional arrival had been reported to the Head Auror whilst she bathed. It made sense, she supposed but she wished they’d asked her first. It was strange how she felt more comfortable with Bill and Fleur about this sort of thing, than Harry. Although, maybe it wasn’t so surprising; Harry had a habit, even being an Auror couldn’t break, of acting first and thinking second. Bill was more reserved, more mature.

“Hermione, are you alright? Bill told me you were in a bit of a state when you arrived. Is there anything you need me to do officially? What’s happened?” Harry asked, embracing his best and oldest friend in a protective hug.

“I’m fine, Harry. No-one did stuff to me or anything like that. There  _ are  _ things I need to tell you officially but not in front of little ears. And Draco needs to hear them too. If it’s ok with Bill and Fleur we’ll hang around, invite him over later and talk when the kids are asleep.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome to stay. Both of you.”

“Does that mean Auntie Mi can read us our bedtime stories?” Dominique asked, hopefully.

Bill raised his eyes at Hermione in question.

Hermione sighed happily.

“I suppose I can sing for my supper, so to speak.”

The children jumped up and down gleefully. They loved Auntie Mi telling stories because they were always stories about Hogwarts and she used magic to change her voice to sound like the professors. Their favourite was the voice of Professor Snape coming out of their tiny Aunt who was only a foot taller than Victoire and how he once hit Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron on their heads with a book. Victoire wanted to know what was on ‘page 394’ of the Defence Against the Dark Arts book from their third year and asked every time, but Hermione only ever answered with “you’ll have to wait and see’, and received a pout for not giving in.

“You don’t have to.” Fleur whispered.

“I love reading to the children and they laugh so much when I put on Severus’s voice. Besides, I really don’t think they’re going to give me a choice in the matter.”

“Well as you’re paying in stories, we’d better feed you.” Bill said laughing as everyone took their seats and Fleur handed out pork and apple sauce sandwiches and mini sausage rolls, leaving a variety of pickles and sauces for everyone to help themselves.

…

Hermione was distracted as she descended the stairs of Shell Cottage from reading the children their story. In truth, she’d become distracted  _ whilst  _ she was telling them the story of the obstacles under Hogwarts to get to the Philosopher’s Stone. Her stomach had started to twist with the idea of explaining what had happened in Lucius Malfoy’s cell. The Monty Python line ‘no one expects the Spanish Inquisition’ was on a loop in her mind, with the exception that she did expect it. She was fully expecting the Spanish Inquisition.

She entered the living room to see Bill, Fleur and Harry already sitting at the kitchen table, four glasses of firewhiskey laid out, and the bottle. They weren’t sitting in a particularly intimidating way but Hermione still felt her nerves hike up a few levels and was reminded by the set of Harry’s shoulders that he was an Auror – and in ‘interview mode’.

“Kids are asleep.” She said cheerfully, trying to diffuse her own tension.

“Which story from your adventurous childhood did you tell?” Bill asked, grinning.

“Just the end of our first year this time. Minus the three-headed dog and the two headed wizard who used to teach Defence. I think I’d put them off Hogwarts for life if I went into all the gory details.”

“Good call.” Harry said, nodding. “Although, we were always in a rush to get back there every September.”

“Well, you had a destiny to fulfil, I was a swot who was in love with the giant magical library and Ron… well, I think he’d have been just as happy staying at home. At that point anyway. Molly’s cooking and all.”

“You might have a point there.” Harry laughed, “But then he did come and rescue me from the Dursleys with Fred and George so that we could go back to school.”

The whole table laughed.

“Dad told me about that.” Bill mentioned, “Didn’t mum send him a howler?”

“Y-yes.” Hermione stammered through her laughter, “Well same year, different occasion. That was for when just Harry and Ron flew the car to school.His face was as red as his hair.”

“Hey. No ginger jokes.” Bill commented in mock annoyance.

“You know it’s not malicious, Bill,” Harry defended, “You know we’re both rather fond of the wizarding world’s abundance of redheads.”

“’Ermione certainly is.” Fleur commented with a smirk.

“Fleur…” the witch in question hissed quietly.

“They know about you and Fred too?” Harry asked, looking confused, “You swore me to secrecy. You said I couldn’t even tell Ron.”

“No Harry, they don’t.” She ground out at her best friend, with an annoyed shushing noise. “Where’s Draco anyway? I told you he needed to be here.”

“I tried but Scorpius isn’t well. He said to go to the Manor tomorrow with an update.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute…” Bill exclaimed, amused. “Don’t you even try to change the subject, Hermione Granger. Are you telling me you and Fred were a thing? When?”

Hermione had turned puce with this turn in conversation. As much as she was dreading the imminent questions about what had happened earlier in the day, this was in some ways, infinitely worse.

She scowled at Harry for spilling the beans.

“No. I am determinedly trying to not tell you that.”

“So I was right earlier? You could actually rank us all?” At her scowl, he changed tack. “Please Hermione, you can’t leave us hanging like that. It’s a house rule.”

She gave an exasperated sigh.

“That’s the spirit,” Harry commented. “Never met a rule Hermione didn’t abide by.”

“Or break because of you.” Bill answered.

“Fine! It started the summer after fourth year, a couple of weeks before Harry came to Grimmauld Place. I’d been a bit down in the dumps because I hadn’t heard from Viktor, remember? Plus there was Harry’s impending court case to worry about. Dumbledore was being cagey about why he wouldn’t let us write and Fred caught me crying in the library. He gave me a bit of a cuddle and one his stupid grins, told me everything would be ok. I felt a bit better and went to kiss him on the cheek but being Fred, he moved his head to get a full on lip-lock. I was a bit shocked at first but didn’t pull back when he turned it into a proper snog. That was the start of it all and we carried on until him and George blew up the Great Hall with fireworks and left the school to start the shop.”

“You never told me all that.” Harry said looking offended, “You just told me it was a bit of snogging to help you get over Viktor; not that you two were actually together for nearly a year.”

“We kept it quiet because of everything that was going on that year; Umbridge, the Inquisitorial Squad, the DA, you thinking you were turning into a snake and attacking people. Everyone had enough to deal with. I think George knew but that’s about it.”

Harry nodded, reluctantly understanding her logic but hating that she’d downplayed an important part of her life for his benefit. He wondered what else he didn’t know about her.

“So, have you shagged all the Weasley brothers then or is the count still at three?” Bill asked good-humouredly, not caring if Harry knew Hermione had become more than ‘just friends’ with him and Fleur once.

The scowl Hermione had bestowed on Harry only moments ago was now whipped round to the oldest of the Weasley boys; eyes like fire and…

“Three?” Harry asked, confused. “Ron, Fred and… who? Was it Ginny? Did you two practice kissing in the girls dormitory? You can tell me about that. I don’t mind.”

His tone had become excited at this new turn of events.

“Of course not. And that’s in answer to both of your questions. No, I have not shagged  _ all _ the Weasley boys,  _ or girl _ . Fred was my first, then Ron a few years later because I didn’t exactly have time for anyone in between with all the drama of my late teens. As for the third Weasley, as our annoying host pointed out there  _ was _ a third; that would be, well, our annoying host himself.”

Harry’s mouth comically dropped open as Fleur’s cheeks pinked a little and Bill looked smug.

“Honestly, I thought you were gonna say Charlie. Didn’t you spend a few weeks on the reserve studying dragon parts that were useful in Potions and Wand-making?”

“That was strictly professional.” Hermione defended. “I had my own cabin and spent the entire time I was there doing research, not dragon handlers. Contrary to current evidence, I am not a complete slut for the Weasleys.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s just that I’ve seen your dragon tattoo; I assumed it had Charlie connotations.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Bill commented, “the one on your thigh that winds around your hip and up your back.”

“It’s a Ukranian Ironbelly. The one we rescued from Gringotts. I’m working on the designs for a few other tattoos to represent meaningful people and moments in my life.”

“Sorry Hermione. That’s a really nice idea about the tattoos and I know you don’t just sleep around… at least you’ve kept it mostly in one family.” Harry laughed.

“Can we talk about something else now please?” Hermione begged.

“Spoilsport.” Bill said with a mock pout.

“If you’re up to it, we can talk about what happened earlier?” Harry inserted gently.

Hermione nodded as her face became more serious.

“Ok, so you remember Christmas Day when Draco tracked me down at Grimmauld?” she began.

Harry nodded.

“Well he informed me that Lucius is due for release sometime in February and wanted me to make a new wand as a ‘welcome home’ surprise from him and Scorpius. Apparently Voldemort snapped the old one or something like that. I had no real reason to say no; it’s what I do for a living and I understand how Ministry restrictions work so I agreed.”

“Sounds reasonable so far; although, I bet Draco was uncomfortable coming to  _ you  _ for something like that.”

“A little but I put his mind at rest and told him not to worry about the past. I firmly intend to keep it all behind us and stay moved on. Honestly Harry, it’s like I have to remind him he’s forgiven every time I see him.”

“So how did you go from the idea of making Lucius Malfoy a wand to the shaking ball of nervous wreck that showed up on the beach earlier today?”

“I’m getting to that. You see, Draco told me that he didn’t want me to use the specs I have in Ollivander’s files for Lucius' old wand; he wants something new; something that will suit who Lucius is now. As we discussed that no-one really knows what he’s like now, it was decided that I’d have to see him to get a feel for his magic. At least that way I know I can work on what my instincts tell me about how his magic works and what he needs. I planned to liaise with the bowtruckles who live at the Grove; their affinity with wand woods is something I am yet to duplicate.”

“I wish you’d told me you were going there. I’d have gone with you. The magic is intense... and creepy.”

“That part really doesn’t matter now. It’s done. What I discovered whilst I was there earlier is what really matters. You see, when I set up the crystals in his cell, he still hadn’t said a word to me and so when I placed the last crystal, I used a _ different sort of magic _ to break him out of his… stubborn silence.”

“What do you mean?  _ A different sort of magic _ ?” Harry asked.

_ Is he really that clueless? I can’t believe I have to spell this out. _

Instead of having to say the words, Hermione decided a reckless, physical demonstration was required. She grabbed her boobs in her hands and grinned like it was the most amazing plan she’d ever come up with.

“These,” she stated confidently, squeezing her breasts for added effect.

“You showed him your… those?” Harry asked, stumbling over the words, blushing. He wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination but Hermione was like a sister to him; she barely registered as female and was therefore, to his mind, boobless.

“Not exactly. Give me some credit. I just went for an unsubtle display of cleavage to face when I placed the last crystal. Considering he hasn’t seen boobs for a decade, I figured they might break him out of his very deliberate silent treatment.”

“Did it work?” Bill asked from across the table.

Hermione smirked as if to say ‘ _ you’ve seen my tits, of course it worked.’ _

“He called me ‘shameless’,” she cackled.

“I think he might have had a point.” Harry mumbled.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in anger, mentally preparing a rant on freedom of expression and women’s liberation.

“Ok, well maybe ‘shameless’ is too strong a word but I’m learning a whole lot more about you tonight than I ever thought I’d know or want to know, come to that.”

“Well you asked. Can I move on from my boobs now?” She asked, frustrated.

“Please.” Harry begged.

“Ok, so we talked for a bit while I set up the laptop and testing wand; then when it came for the first test, I transfigured a pebble into a glass and cast  _ aquamenti  _ before asking him to do the same so I could compare the readings of his magic verses mine. He tried the water and spat it out, saying it tasted wrong. Not trusting his judgement, either because his palate was affected by Azkaban or his upbringing, I tried it.”

“And… what happened?” Fleur asked, suddenly very drawn to the story.

Her audience, the Head Auror, a decorated Curse Breaker and a Tri-Wizard champion/half-veela were all looking as if they hung on her every word. She remembered why this was so daunting; the details that were about to come up…

“It tasted of sulphur. I think we all know what that means.”

“He is cursed.” Fleur commented.

“His magic is cursed,” Bill corrected.

“He was poisoned too. The water had a slight taste of henbane.”

“Poison? How could he have been poisoned?” Harry asked.

“Only someone who had access to Azkaban kitchens could have poisoned him but whoever it is has to have knowledge of the curse. Each one works with the other to weaken him further, not to mention the fact that henbane would cover up almost all traces of the curse like a disillusionment charm. Thankfully, my scanners pick up everything. If I hadn’t discovered this, he’d have either died or been magicless before the end of his sentence. As it is, I managed to cleanse his system of the infected magic. That will allow his immune system to fight the poison and the water I conjured before we discovered all this was full of vitamins, minerals, healing charms. Before I left, he said he felt better than he had in a long time. He thanked me.”

“Wow.” Bill said, unhelpfully.

“So, what happened to make you…?” Harry began but Bill interrupted.

“Wait. You said you removed the infected magic. How?”

Hermione lowered her head, eyes closed as she fought the blush of embarrassment and a tiny bit of shame as she faced these specific people with the knowledge that she had kissed a Death Eater, willingly.

“ _ Exonerare _ .” Hermione whispered. She knew Bill would know what it was even if the others didn’t.

“Seriously?” Bill asked quietly, awe and disbelief in his voice.

She nodded.

“I had no choice.”

“Wow, Hermione. That’s… that must have been intense.”

“It was necessary. I was put on the spot when I discovered his curse; I had to use what was available to me, which was basically just myself.” Hermione said, a desperate tinge to her voice as she defended herself.

“Sorry but am I being thick? I’ve never heard of this  _ Exonerare _ . What is it?”

“It is a ritual,” Fleur began to explain, “of healing. I have never seen it performed but I know what it entails. I found it accidentally when I was studying for the Tri-wizard Tournament. It is old magic. Powerful. Dangerous.”

“What were you thinking Hermione?” Harry began, revving up to a rant; she could tell.

“Don’t start with me Harry. I knew what I was doing. There was no other way unless I was willing to cause him immense pain or extract the curse through, erm – expulsion. I was careful, I made sure he trusted me first and that he knew what to expect from my magic.”

“Hermione, the last known witch to perform that ritual was Nimue.” Bill informed, becoming concerned as he thought over the connotations of what she’d done. “It’s what turned her… you know…”

“What?” Harry asked.

“ _ Méchant, _ ” Fleur added in her native tongue.

“Fleur, I have not turned evil. I just have rather a lot of curse-infected magic in me right now which I am controlling in the only way I know how, by filtering it through the channels I already have for my own natural brand of darkness.”

“Hermione you are not a dark witch. You’re the lightest person I know.” Harry said seriously.

“You know that’s not true Harry. I set Snape’s robes on fire in first year. Then think about Marietta Edgecombe, Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge. I have a dark side, everybody does. The fact that I don’t let it rule me is mostly down to you and the Weasleys but it’s definitely there and it’s not small. Especially not at the moment but ever since I was tortured… remember what the healers said about what Bellatrix did to me?”

“Ok,” Harry nodded, “But I don’t like it. I don’t like the idea of you doing anything that will tip that very delicate balance.”

“Neither do I but I had to fix him; Draco already lost his mother to a curse, I couldn’t let him lose Lucius as well; the  _ Exonerare _ was the best way to do it.” Hermione said with finality as if putting an end to that particular discussion; then, turned to Fleur, “Plus, I got to do something that every Slytherin witch would be jealous of.”

Fleur gave a dark smile and lifted an eyebrow in question.

“And?”

“Chapped and one-sided so difficult to get a good assessment but warm and definitely holds promise.”

“Must you?” Bill asked, looking a little green.

“What are they talking about now?” Harry asked, feeling very confused and out of the loop.

“Just a little girl talk, Harry. Nothing for you to worry about.” Hermione comforted. “However, I do have  _ something else _ for you to worry about. Bellatrix isn’t dead. She’s the one that cursed Lucius; at the end of the battle.”

“What?” Harry was out of his chair. “But Molly killed her. I saw it.”

Hermione explained about her deductions and recognising the magic that cast Lucius’s curse; explaining how it felt identical to the magic that cast her own torture; the magic that was now so well blended with her own, it was like an adopted child; another part of her dark side.

She had chosen not to divulge the exact process of magic transfer (the kiss) to Harry in fear that his head might explode. Bill and Fleur seemed to understand though and she was confident she could trust them not to spill the details. There was one more little thing she wanted from Harry though.

“Harry, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. It’s getting late and I worked through last night. I was wondering if you’d mind updating Draco. I really don’t want to go through it all again.”

“Yeah sure. Should I tell him everything? About Bellatrix as well?”

“You’ll have to. He’s on your team and technically she’s family to him but try to keep it as low profile as possible.”

“I can do that. I think I’ve learned how to handle the dragon that is the wizarding press of Britain after this many years.” Harry gave a wry smile.

“Well, I’d better head off then.” Hermione added, standing up. “I really need some rest.”

“Hey. You never mentioned what had you so shook up when you apparated in.” Bill prompted.

“Just a bit of an emotional release; sort of a cross between panic about the  _ Exonerare _ and feeling overwhelmed. Between spending an hour or so at Azkaban, facing Lucius again, discovering the curse, performing the ritual, realising that Bellabitch is still around; I just needed to decompress. You guys are a tonic.”

She hugged Fleur first, then Bill, then Harry and headed to the floo.

“See everyone soon.” She said, smiling tiredly before throwing some floo powder, saying “Making Magic” and disappearing in a whoosh of green flames.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the next installment of Making Magic. Today, we explore two friendships Hermione & Pansy, followed by Hermione & Severus. Hope you enjoy.

The next morning, Hermione awoke from a surprisingly restful night’s sleep of _interesting_ dreams and padded to the kitchen in her lion slippers and red fleece, check pyjamas for a much sought after cup of strong tea. It was an annoying aspect of being single – having no one to make her a nice cuppa in the morning – and she had finally reached the point, once again, of being dissatisfied with her single status.

The moment of flirtation with Lucius Malfoy had been a wake-up call of sorts and as she put the kettle on she determined that during the next year she would find herself a meaningful and lasting relationship. She hadn’t put serious effort into a man since Ron if she was honest and she knew continuing on like that wasn’t the answer to her loneliness. Another non-answer to her loneliness was ‘more Weasleys’.

No more Weasleys was definitely the answer to her love life; she had gravitated toward redheaded lovers forever and with over half of them ‘under her belt’ so to speak, it was time for a change. Fred had been youthful experimentation, Ron had been duty, followed by heartbreak; and Bill and Fleur had been fun but in no way capable of leading to anything permanent. As for the others; well, the less said the better about that.

 _‘Maybe a blond…’_ Her subconscious provided, unhelpfully.

“Granger!”

The voice of her business partner, Pansy Weasley sounded irritated from beyond the front door and Hermione stopped deliberating over her apparent obsession with gingers and took her made cup of tea with her to answer the impatient witch on the other side.

“Morning sunshine.” Hermione responded sarcastically, opening the door to find a popped hip, scowl and tapping foot.

“I take it I’m opening the shop this morning then?” Pansy stated disdainfully, looking over Hermione’s pyjamas. “An owl would’ve been nice, you know?”

“Shit. Is it that late? Sorry Pans.” Hermione answered, ignoring the sarcasm. It was just part of who Pansy was. Hermione figured she couldn’t help it. “I must’ve slept through my alarm. Come on in. Kettle’s hot and there’s never any trade for at least the first half an hour. We can afford to open up late.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“You never sleep in and you never think it acceptable to open the shop late. Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

“Ha-bloody-ha.” Hermione answered with her own brand of sarcasm. “I am entitled to a lazy day if I want one. Although, it won’t actually be that lazy; I have rather a lot to get sorted out today.”

“So you _do_ need me to open up?” Pansy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Honestly, do all Slytherins have private lessons in that eyebrow thing? You all do it. You, Draco, Severus; even Lucius did it yesterday when I…”

“You saw Lucius Malfoy yesterday? How? Why? Does this have something to do with why you’ve had a complete personality change in the last twenty-four hours? And since when do you call him Lucius?”

Hermione sighed. That had been too big of a slip up.

“Yes, I saw Mr Malfoy yesterday. Draco asked me to make him a wand for when he gets out and I needed to see him to get a good read on his magic; between Draco and Harry, I pulled strings to get in and see him. Things took a strange turn but it’s nothing I can’t handle. And yes, I do need you to manage the shop this morning. I have a few errands to run. Oh, and could you send out the order to Shanghai? I finished it yesterday.”

“Yeah no problem; did they pay for ‘Granger Prime’ delivery?

“They did so send if you can send it with Gandalf and Galadriel; they haven’t had a good flight for weeks.”

Hermione had invested in two pairs of Peregrine Falcons earlier in the year and launched ‘Granger Prime’; a next day delivery service for her clients who needed such a facility, once the order was ready. It had actually been Pansy’s idea after Hermione had introduced her to a muggle shopping website earlier in the year. Thanks to Hermione’s ‘Harmony Runes’ that balanced the inequality between magic and electricity; laptops and wifi had become a common thing in the wizarding world.

Pansy had also been the one to name the falcons, given her current obsession with The Lord of the Rings films. Gandalf and Galadriel were the first pair they’d brought, followed by Aragorn and Arwen. Pansy had quite the crush on Aragorn, which Hermione mocked her for when the occasion warranted, saying he looked alarmingly like Sirius Black.

“Consider it done but you know you can’t just leave me hanging like that. What happened at Azkaban? How was Lucius? I know he’s getting out soon but how did he seem? Was he okay with you? I mean, because you’re, _you know_ , a…”

“Mudblood?” Hermione asked rhetorically, watching Pansy screw her nose up at the term. “Honestly Pans, he was fine. Not quite as refined as I remember him considering the ten years of isolation and poor treatment but still, you know, Malfoyish. Surprisingly, the blood-status thing never came up but perhaps as I was the first person he’d seen who wasn’t a guard, warden or fellow prisoner, he was caught in a moment of unpreparedness.”

“And you’re taking on the commission?” The Slytherin witch asked as she made herself a cup of tea.

“Of course, I am. The man is going to need a restricted wand and it’s not like I’d turn down such a huge project just because it’s Malfoy money. We’re going to make _three-hundred_ _Galleons_ on this commission. Draco and I are friendly enough now and Lucius seemed content with me helping him. You know better than anyone else that I’ve let go of all that stuff from the 90s; otherwise, do you really think I’d have set you up with Charlie?”

“I suppose not. Why 300? That’s ten times what you’d usually charge for a wand?” Pansy asked, suspicion lacing her words.

“Because I’m not just making a wand; I’m making a pair of duelling wands and matching staff. The staff will have that gorgeous piece of peridot shaft I was gifted to enhance the grounding and protective energies of his family blood and magic. I’m planning to have Draco and Scorpius each harvest branches from the Malfoy grounds for the main wand bodies and then I have that trunk from the fallen Ash that I want to use for the staff.”

“Wow, and you’ve come up with all of this in one day? It must’ve really been playing on your mind since your visit.”

There was something uncomfortably knowing in Pansy’s voice but Hermione knew she couldn’t know anything. No-one really knew _everything_ that happened in that cell except for Lucius and Hermione herself.

“Draco made the request on Christmas Day,” Hermione defended. “I’ve had a few days to ponder and I’ve worked with their family magic before. The peridot was already decided, Scorpius’s wand is from the same Ash tree so that’s another connection and the unicorn herd at The Grove have already left more than enough tail and mane hair for either cores or a binding agent. Actually, that’s one of my errands today; I’m dropping the excess to Severus for his stores.”

“Well, I suppose it’s too much to ask to get any juicy gossip from you. Although… did you and Severus ever… you know… when you were training in Potions?”

Hermione’s face looked comically gobsmacked. There might have been a teensy crush in her fifth year but it had died a painful death at the end of sixth year and had only been slightly resuscitated by Severus’s exoneration; even her own successful attempt at Muggle CPR to resuscitate the man himself hadn’t really shifted her hormones back into gear. Their former professor, the now private potions supplier, was a reluctant friend and recalcitrant resource when it came to their potions or dark arts advice.

“Of course not! I might have entertained ideas of cracking that impenetrable façade with my questionably effective womanly wiles in my youth but I am so over it. And even if I did flirt with him during my mastery training, he never went for it – he was seeing that witch from Swansea; remember them being in the papers? He’s too… stiff for me anyway. I need a man who isn’t afraid of showing me they want me. As much as I might have wanted him to at the time, Severus never gave the slightest indication he was interested.”

“And what about more recently? He hasn’t treated you like a student who just blew up a cauldron in ages. Also, didn’t he take you out to dinner on your birthday?”

“It was a business meeting. The date holds no relevance.”

“I would usually say that that’s true but you left the party _Harry_ planned for you to go to dinner with Snape. That set the tongues wagging at the party Hermione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s an important supplier and I’ve wanted to get a contract nailed down with him for years. He finally agreed to a meeting to discuss it and now _we_ have that contract in place. I’m not sorry for it, despite what the gossips made of it.”

“If you say so, and now you get to see him more regularly too. Feed that weird, juvenile crush you have on him. I actually think it might be mutual, he smiles more when he sees you.”

“He does not, and ‘the crush’ is over,” Hermione argued without conviction. “Although you have to admit, he is still a rather captivating presence even if he is pushing fifty.”

“I don’t have to admit anything. Slytherin girls just aren’t inclined to think of him like that; being our Head of House, he was like a very strict Uncle or something. It would be too creepy for me to like him like that; it would be like you finding Arthur attractive. Besides, I’m a married woman.”

“Hmmm,” was all Hermione allowed, her nose wrinkling at the prospect of finding Arthur Weasley attractive. “Well, I should get showered and dressed if I’m going to make sure I have time to see Severus before nipping over to Seamus’s Smithy before lunch. Is everything ready for the Tournament? I think we’re going to have a good turn out this year.”

“All in hand, oh partner of mine; decorations go up tomorrow and the wands are secured. It should be the event of the year. Is the Minister still willing to participate? Charlie wants to take him on.”

This New Year, just like the last two, ‘Making Magic’ was hosting a Duelling Tournament. Anyone who was of age could enter but there were three categories: Beginner, Intermediate and Advanced. Pansy had come up with the idea after going to a featherweight Boxing Match with Hermione, Mr Granger and Charlie. Hermione had assumed the pair would love the dramatic and violent sport and she had been right. It had also proved to be the perfect set-up date for Pansy and Charlie who had been eyeing other for a while until Hermione finally put her foot down and decided to do something about it.

“When I saw Kingsley last week, he seemed as excited as everyone else to get down and dirty duelling again. I think he misses the action being stuck in an office all the time. How are things with you and Charlie anyway?”

“Things are ok.” Pansy sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“We got into a fight a few days ago about not being pregnant yet. Father has been pressuring me about wanting a grandson; Molly mentions it every time I see her and I’m starting to think there might be something wrong. Charlie seems to think we just need to ‘try’ more often. He said that no one in his family has ever had trouble conceiving before and we just need to give it more time but it’s been over a year Hermione and I’m really starting to worry.”

“Oh Pans, I’m sorry. Why don’t you stay for dinner tonight and we can talk about it more? I have that very good bottle of wine our dear Minister gave me for my birthday that needs to be shared. I might be able to help with your worries too.”

“Really?”

“Well, don’t look so surprised. We’ve worked together for a long time; you’re married to a member of the one wizarding family in the world I love more than life itself; it’s about time we became proper friends, don’t you think?”

Pansy nodded, clearly unable to find the words and looking a little misty at the prospect.

“Ok, so I’ll see you after lunch. Owl that gorgeous idiot you married and tell him you’re having a girls night with me then let him stew. I’m off for my shower and then I’ll be out all morning.”

“Yes boss.” Pansy saluted sarcastically.

“Bitch!” Hermione smiled with mock retaliation.

“Yeah, love you too.”

* * *

Hermione fiddled with a loose curl and adjusted the lace at the collarbone of her corset-style top as she stood outside Severus Snape’s front door. Her attitude and workwear were always professional at the shop or in business meetings but outside of that, the once uncloseted bookworm had adopted a Goth/rock chick style which she felt suited her wild hair and hid her ‘nerdy’ persona that had followed her around since she was a child.

In an effort to appear confident today, not to mention tall enough to speak with Snape eye-to-eye she had paired the corset top, with a high-collared black cloak (complete with purple silk lining), a pair of black leggings and 5-inch heeled platform boots. Smoky eyes completed the effect and she didn’t feel the need to add lipstick or other make-up. She didn’t want to appear as if she had gone over-the-top in dressing up for him.

She looked around to settle her nerves; despite them being ‘sort of’ friends, he was still intimidating. It would be obvious to anyone who understood brewing that the front garden belonged to a Potioneer – neat rows of herbs sat in uniformed stone flower beds equidistant from each other and emitting a low frequency of magical warding. Granted, it also wouldn’t take much to know the Potioneer had very specific disciplines of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - everything in its place.

She hated that she was so fidgety when she visited Severus but Pansy had been right; he did generally make her feel like an eager-to-please student again who had royally fucked up a potion. She wasn’t even sure he knew how intense and intimidating his aura still was, although knowing Severus, he probably did.

Taking a deep breath and checking she had all of the excess supplies she was bringing as an excuse to visit; she finally knocked the door and waited agonising moments for him to answer. She knew from experience that he hated to be disturbed, especially unannounced like today. She also knew that if he was brewing, he would not hear her knocking from his sound-proof lab and would then ‘rip her a new one’ if she had to send him a patronus.

“Miss Granger,” his illustrious tone drawled, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It’s lovely to see you too, Professor.” Hermione responded without a shred of sarcasm, as if he’d greeted her the same way, and just caught his eyes flit away from her chest. “I come bearing gifts.”

The satchel she held up as a sacrificial offering made his lip quirk. As a completely independent Potioneer, he didn’t have a great amount of time to hunt and gather ingredients in between brewing; as a more commercial business, Hermione had a team of gatherers, an in with Charlie for dragon parts, her own unicorn herd at The Grove and several other well sourced ingredients including rarities given by the Centaur herd and Mermaid colony from Hogwarts. Severus Snape was a smart man and the business relationship he’d cultivated with ‘Making Magic’ was a useful one; even if the owner was a temptress of the most annoying order.

“As I have told you many times before, I am no longer your Professor,” were the only words he offered before billowing away into the dark corridor, leaving the door open in invitation.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics but followed him into the kitchen she had only seen once in recent years. When he first left St Mungo’s – ‘released’ wasn’t an accurate description considering he left in a fit of temper at the medi-witches mithering and fawning – Hermione had visited daily, much to his annoyance. She had cast _petrificus_ on him to change his dressings and a charm she could have only learned from someone in the healing profession to make sure he swallowed his potions. She’d even taken to giving him physical therapy due to the numbness in his right side; he had complained _a lot_ and when he was finally deemed ‘in full health’ by Madame Pomfrey a year after the war, Hermione had been _dismissed_ in a very impolite fashion. She had been affronted by his lack of gratitude but had eventually stepped back gracefully to allow him his preferred state - solitude.

These days, he usually came to the shop to do their business but several of the ingredients she had for him were fresh, which made them more potent if hand-delivered; the reasons for which magic did not make her privy to. She also wanted to see if he would recognise the change in her energy as she believed he had the same abilities as her when it came to reading magic.

She had gifted him a pair of her much coveted duelling wands two Christmases ago to try and break the frostiness of their acquaintance but he had just sneered and left them on the table, still wrapped. She so wanted him as a friend and she was determined that one day he would crack. Her goth-style was even in part to honour his constant black-wearing self.

“Coffee? I need to inspect the quality of what you have brought.” Severus said in a not-unkind voice.

“That would be lovely, sir. Please.” She answered, distractedly, surprised by his offer. He didn’t usually offer a drink as it naturally extended the visit of whoever had dared to intrude on his time.

“Would you care for sugar or milk, Granger?”

“Just milk please.” She answered robotically, discombobulated by how ‘nice’ he was being. “May I ask, sir… you seem more cordial than usual. Is everything quite alright?”

“I see you have not lost your ability to be forthright and unfiltered in your thoughts.” Severus answered in a tone she remembered well; it was his teacher-tone. Something clenched in her stomach and she sat up straighter. “It is refreshing to see that some things never change.”

“See? Like that. I’m not convinced that I am meeting with the same Severus Snape. I realise ten years have passed but you’re like a completely different person today. Thank you.” She finished as he handed her coffee.

“You’re welcome. And in answer to your question, I believe I may have _mellowed_ in my old age. Finally being away from Hogwarts and all the little pandering idiots is very soothing for the soul.”

Hermione eyed him shrewdly.

“I don’t believe that for a second, sir; and you are far from old, especially by wizarding standards but for the sake of keeping you in this _mellowed_ mood, I’ll pretend I do. This coffee is gorgeous by the way; where are the beans from?”

“For Merlin’s sake Granger, call me Severus. I’ve known you for nigh on twenty years; you saved my life. I think you’ve earned the right to call me by my name.” He suddenly said, becoming much more frustrated.

Hermione smiled, indulgently.

“It’s a sign of respect, _sir_ , but if you insist. And _Severus,_ it’s been sixteen years, not twenty.”

“Fine; it’s still long enough. You have a good palate, by the way. The beans are Costa Rican. Hand me the satchel then; let’s have a look at what you’ve brought me.”

Severus spent several long minutes looking through the items Hermione had brought; emotions waring with his occlumency shields, which kept the delight and awe from his face. The girl had an uncanny knack with magical creatures that was unrivalled by anyone; she was like the Newt Scamander of the 21st century. The satchel; a veritable treasure trove of potion-making goodies included: bundles of unicorn hair, bowtruckle leaves, dragon scales from various breeds, mermaid scales and hair; phials of centaur tail hair (very, very rare); fae dust, water from the Lake of Avalon… and what the…

“What is this, Granger?” Severus asked with more urgency than he’d ever shown in his life, holding up a ten millilitre bottle of powdered white substance that glowed gold. He’d never seen such an ingredient but he could feel the power coming from it; magic in its most natural form, pure.

Hermione smiled with pride and pure happiness.

“Three of the foals in the herd reached maturity over the last month. It’s the powdered horn of a juvenile unicorn. The mother mares left them for me. I’ve kept one in its horn state for if a wand ever calls for it, grated one for my own uses and powdered the other one for you. It’s about time you accepted a gift from me, Severus; so I decided to make it a gift so precious you couldn’t refuse.”

“This is priceless, Granger.” Severus’s voice was barely above a whisper, “No-one has ever been able to get close enough to a herd of unicorn to retrieve one. How in the name of Merlin did you gain their trust?”

Hermione’s beaming smile fell a little. It was not quite common knowledge that her grove of trees was home to a unicorn herd; too many poachers would try and attack. Whilst she trusted her wards, not letting the knowledge out there in the first place was the best course for prevention.

“It was when I first got back from the States that I found a herd of six in the Forest of Dean. I was there working on some of my lingering ‘issues’ from the war. I was meditating on finding, as cliché as it sounds, inner peace. I’d been feeling conflicted about coming home and needed to work through all that to be comfortable and feel safe in England again. I was given a vision of a grove of magical trees and when I opened my eyes, a unicorn mare was in front of me, her herd several metres back. I knew she wanted me to approach her, so I did. She transported me to the grove and through means I may never understand, she asked me to be the guardian of the place.

It was so beautiful, I didn’t even consider refusing. I took on the Grove the same day. There was a ritual where I had to spill blood into a circle the unicorns formed. I still have no idea how I knew what to do; it just felt instinctual. Ever since then my relationship with them has grown from mutual respect to honest-to-goodness friendship. I spoke with Minerva and gained access to the forbidden forest about four years ago, both herds in the forest offered their young males on a sort-of stud exchange to dilute the bloodlines. We have five herds now that are part of the exchange… ‘we’ being me and the other guardians. Obviously, the two at Hogwarts, my herd at the Grove, then there’s a group in Wales who guard a different sacred site and a New Forest herd in Wiltshire; not far from the Malfoy estate by all accounts.”

“That is quite the story. You seem to have been blessed by the purest breed in the magical world and I will never be able to thank you enough for this.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Severus. In truth, it is meant as a thank _you_ …, I know you’re probably sick of hearing it but Harry could never have won the war without your hidden assistance. You’re a good man even if you do keep that fact very well concealed and though I know you dislike accolades and public thanks, you still deserve them. This is just a little piece of gratitude from me to you; it won’t go any further, I promise. The only being who knows you have been gifted this is the Head mare of my unicorn herd. I sought her blessing.”

“It seems I have been blessed too. You are correct in your assumptions about my dislike of public appreciations. It feels false given how I was perceived during and before the war. I truly do appreciate this, though. Thank you, _Hermione_.” He said with a genuine lilt in his voice. “Now, tell me why you’re really here?”

“What makes you think…?”

“Do not try to fool me, Miss Granger. It has been established how long I have known you and all Gryffindors are incapable of hiding anything, despite the fact that you would have been better placed in Ravenclaw.”

“Fine, but I maintain the right to say I offered this information, rather than being coerced by your sneaky mind tricks.”

“I did not use legilimency to discover your true reason for visiting; to do so would be an unconscionable invasion of privacy. Your energy is different; I can sense it. Your magic seems more… just more.”

There was silence between them for several moments as Hermione wondered what it was he could sense about her; what he’d been able to sense before her trip to Lucius Malfoy and Azkaban. Severus watched and waited.

He had first sensed a change in her energy field (an aura the muggles called it) and magic when she was flitting in and out of his hospital room at St Mungo’s just after the war. No doubt some sense of guilt or duty had kept her returning to his bedside to fuss but once he was home and able to do things for himself again, he’d shut it down; lest she think there was more going on between them than she should.

Her magic had been consistent since then and he had assumed the spike was something to do with the amount of magic she had expended whilst weakened from almost a year on the run and during the final battle; magic loved adrenaline and by all accounts the girl had been a one-woman stunning machine. Now it had changed again though. Something had obviously happened to make her every cell practically glow with power.

“I did something.” Her voice broke through his thoughts quietly, “Something I probably shouldn’t have done but as yet I’m struggling to regret it.”

He stayed quiet. He had learned over the years that people gave more away to get your reaction if you didn’t give them one. Especially Gryffindors. Hermione did not disappoint; she relayed all that had happened to her since Draco’s request on Christmas day concisely and with eloquence. The events of her time at Shell Cottage, Severus felt was over-sharing but she didn’t focus on any detail for too long and actually rushed through the explanation of performing the _Exonerare_.

“Bellatrix Lestrange is no longer a physical being. I can assure you of that. Was she still living, her first kill would have been me considering my betrayal of Voldemort. I believe what lived on after Molly killed Bellatrix, was her magic, _in you_. Tell me, do you remember everything that happened after her death?”

Hermione shook her head.

“To be honest, Severus, I’ve tried to block most of it out. I can’t forget everything, of course; some moments are burned into my memory but a lot of the in between has become blurry. Harry seems to think we all went to the Burrow at some point but I can’t recall being there. Actually most of the next twelve months, I was a bit out of sorts. I have no idea how I completed my NEWTs.”

Her laughter was hollow as she commented on her NEWTs, as if remembering how academically focused she used to be, especially in front of this particular ex-Professor, was embarrassing. Everything she was saying though, further confirmed the theory he was considering in his mind.

“Blurred memories would be an understandable affliction in almost anyone, except someone like you. You were recovering from your own traumas, yes, as well as unnecessarily tending to me and my injuries but it was made obvious to me and the other professors at Hogwarts very early in your academic career that your mind was something of a sponge. It soaks up every speck of data it can find; studies it, analyses it but most importantly, _remembers_ it.” He commented, though not unkindly.

“Hmmm, I can see your point. In regards to my taking care of you though, would it kill you to just say thank you?”

“It might but that is not what I wish to discuss. I will skip over how irresponsible it was performing the _exonerare_ ritual on Lucius Malfoy as I’m sure you will hear enough exclamations of shock and probably disgust when the rest of your friends hear of _all_ the details, not to mention Draco. I think it much more prudent to think about why your memory is in such an abysmal state.”

“What are you thinking?” Hermione asked, suddenly very curious and in research mode. It reminded her of when she was wracking her brain for possible horcrux items and locations. She had wanted to work with Severus Snape on something for years but he had always refused. Finally, she was getting her chance, even if it was to do with her own memory. It was very annoying that she had this opportunity and she wasn’t mentally at full capacity; even if he had been complimentary about her academic mind, it wasn’t enough to make her feel better about lapses in it.

“At first I considered the idea that Bellatrix had perhaps made you a horcrux, Lucius too. Accidentally or not, that would explain several of the things you have described; if this was the case, the two of you sharing the exonerare exchange may have caused your symptoms when leaving Azkaban. However, if Bellatrix was alive, I would be dead. That leaves only one conclusion; if her soul was not split, then her magic was. It would take time and _could_ only have taken place whilst you were under her ministrations at Malfoy Manor. It is my belief that as you continued to lie about how you received the sword of Gryffindor, she threw more and more energy into her curses until she lost control and was expending a vast amount of magic in doing so.”

“So you’re saying that I am basically a vessel for Bellatrix’s magic now? That I…”

“Not exactly. You were, until you started going to the Crystal Cave in Wales. Her magic was ritually attached to you when she allowed your blood to hit the land of a property within the family. The carving of flesh calls forth ancient power that should not be messed with if one does not know what they’re doing; which Bellatrix did not. Her family magic was in the dagger that cut you, Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks have identical weapons which are all connected. When Narcissa Black married into the Malfoy family, the magic that lies in the daggers incorporated Malfoy magic into their power so your blood, let by _that_ magic in _that_ blade, onto ancestral lands, bound Bellatrix’s magic to you.”

“Where does the Crystal Cave come into it? How did that change things?”

“The Crystal Cave in Wales, and six others like it across the world are the birthplace of magic itself; earth magic, at least; such information is in the oldest of books on the lore of magic. It is said that the crystals there once healed Merlin himself when he was a young man. Whilst _you_ were there, however, meditating and performing what you thought of as cleansing rituals, Bellatrix’s magic was actually absorbed by yours. The energetic resonance of the crystals created a balance between the two and because your magic is much more fluid and accepting, like you are, that flexibility allowed yours, which was at home within you, to dominate hers, which was detached from its witch.”

Hermione thought over everything she had been told. It was thrilling to hear the knowledge he was imparting on old magic but could it really be true? And how did he know?

“I can still feel her magic as different to mine though. It feels like the two different magics are racing through the same channels as just mine used to before the war.”

Severus thought about the analogy Hermione had used before a thought occurred to him that might make her realise what he was trying to say.

“This race between the two types of magic you feel… which one wins?”

She was silent for a few moments.

“Neither. It all comes out in one go. It’s how I developed my ability to read magic in others. Once I started going to the cave… I thought it was to do with that though.”

“And it was, just more indirectly than you believed. The reason you still feel Bellatrix’s magic as different to yours is because even though it has assimilated, you mentally recognise the power boost it gave you and you remember the feeling of your - let’s call it birth-magic – from before it was augmented with some of the power of Bellatrix’s. It’s a psychosomatic effect that you paired with her magic because for a long time it was. However, when the Crystal Cave balanced the two, you didn’t recognise the difference for what it was; you assumed it was a result of the cleansing.”

“Ok, for argument’s sake, let’s say all this is correct; how does that then relate to Lucius and his curse?”

“Ah, now this is where it gets complicated. You said that Lucius believes he was arrested by Amelia Bones who had most definitely already been killed by Bellatrix?”

Hermione nodded her agreement.

“It was therefore not actually Amelia Bones who arrested him; nor was it Bellatrix, as we have already established she was also dead at that point. Except… a part of her still lived… did it not?”

“Me?” Hermione shouted, rising from her seat in outrage and fear. “There’s no way I could have done that. I’d remember _that_.”

“Sit down, Miss Granger and I will explain.” He asserted in his teacher-tones. Despite having grown up to be a rather splendid woman, competent and confident, Hermione was still partially a student, always would be, and would respond with respect to his show of authority.

He waited as she composed herself and retook her seat. She was fuming, he could tell.

“Remember that it had only been a matter of days since her magic invaded your system; it was before you had discovered the Crystal Cave; her magic was still attached to her as she had only been dead for at most an hour. The blurred spots in your memory; the fact that you had already taken her form at Gringotts within 48 hours of the battle, her DNA was still in your system from the polyjuice. Her magic possessed you through that DNA and her psyche and beliefs were active in those moments after the death of Tom Riddle. Bellatrix’s magic used your body to glamour into Amelia Bones and make sure Lucius was arrested.”

“But why?”

Hermione’s voice was small now; guilt obvious on her face.

“Bellatrix was a jealous witch and she knew how to hold a grudge. Before her obsession with Voldemort, when she and her sisters were still at Hogwarts, Lucius was quite a favourite of hers. He was her first, romantically and sexually; she gave herself to him thinking it would ensure a betrothal but Abraxas, that’s Lucius’s father, who was already in league with Riddle deemed Bellatrix a little too unstable, even back then. He secured Narcissa as Lucius’s fiancé instead, despite her being only twelve years old, to Lucius’s seventeen. Lucius had nothing to do with the decision but Bella always held him responsible. She attacked them on their wedding day; it was Riddle who stopped the attempt, informing Bellatrix that it was his choice for Lucius to wed Cissy. The crazy witch slapped him. After that moment, she was never seen to have a word against any of his decisions. I think when he was finally dead, she seized her opportunity through the only means she had left… you, to see that he never saw the light of day again. By the time you got his sentence reduced, her DNA was out of your system and the physical connection had faded.”

“Wow. So where the gaps in my memory are from that day, I was possessed by her magic?”

Severus nodded.

“Wow.” She said again. “Ok, so Bellatrix is _definitely_ dead?”

“Absolutely. The only thing that survived is her magic and that is now as in your possession as your own. I believe, Granger, that that means you won.” He said with a smirk, handing her a glass of firewhiskey for them to toast to her victory.

She took it from him and gave a soft laugh at his assumption.

“It also means I’m the one who cursed Lucius.” She admitted quietly, suddenly feeling desolate with guilt.

“It does not. You were possessed, Hermione. It is important that you understand that. As much as that family has done to you over the years, the fact that your reaction now to a curse on Lucius that you did not cast is so remorseful, proves you could not have cast it.”

“That makes no sense.” She protested weakly.

“We live in a magical world, Granger. Not everything has to make sense.”

She snorted, then nodded, defeated.

“Now, drink up. We’re supposed to be celebrating your victory over Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Nodding again, she allowed a little smile to show at his support and raised her glass in his direction before draining now.

“How did you know all that stuff anyway? And what about Lucius’s poisoning?”

“I think if you are going to keep asking questions, we need another…”

Severus’s words were interrupted by the whooshing of his floo from another room and a very angry voice.

“Granger, get your skinny arse out here.”

Hermione got up quickly and followed the sound of the irate words, trailed by Severus, to a dishevelled and wild eyed Draco Malfoy.

“You performed _exonerare_ ? On my _father?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo, Draco's mad. Prepare for a rant. Just not the one you're thinking of.
> 
> Thank you to TanzaniteWrites for being my pseudo-bets in this project. Lots of love x


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so first of all a warning... this chapter contains sexual content and not between the main listed pairing. If 'Snamione' isn't your thing, skip the second half of this chapter. It was added because I struggle to not include a bit of 'snamione' in everything I write, smut was overdue in this fic and I felt the need to further establish that Hermione is (at the moment) single and the kind of witch who takes opportunities as they present themselves - such is the nature of a Gryffindor. The entire scene is gratuitous though and has very little to do with the plot... so if you do choose to not read it, you won't miss plot points.
> 
> The second warning is that there is an air of bdsm about this smut but it is never fully brought out; there's just a feeling of it. I make this warning because I know unless it's written well, I tend to skip such stories and like to know to expect it.
> 
> My last comment at this end of the chapter is that the structure of this smut scene was written by the very talented @TanzaniteWrites and edited by myself. I will be adding her to the author list for this fic, as well as being the giftee, if I can work out how to do it.

Tension flooded into the sudden silence that encompassed the small, comfortable sitting room. Hermione hadn’t considered what Draco might think of her performing such a delicate, not to mention intimate, ritual on his father. Although considering he hadn’t even been to see the man for ten years, it didn’t occur to her that his reaction might be negative.

“Answer me, Granger. Did you or did you  _ not _ perform the  _ Exonerare Ritual _ on my father?” Draco repeated. His eyes were wide, filled with a complex mixture of disgust and awe.

Severus watched from the doorway as Draco waited and Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. He made mental bets with himself about who would speak first or whether they’d cast curses first and talk after or actually listen to each other’s points. It took about a minute before he saw Hermione’s back straighten; he couldn’t see her face but he could imagine the fierce look on it. The same one Lily used to get when she defended herself.

“Yes; actually, I did. I’m sure you’ve forgotten but I do hold three masteries in advanced magics, four if you count my acceptance into the Wand-makers Guild. Then there is my ability to read magic in others as if they were an open book – I’m sure you remember how much I like books. With the possible exception of Professor Snape, I am the only person in this country who could’ve performed The Exonerare Ritual on tainted magic without consequences.”

Severus couldn’t help but snort. His smirk followed as her head whipped around, eyes blazing at the interruption.

“Ok. There were minimal consequences but they were to  _ me _ , not Mr Malfoy and you should be grateful; I performed the ritual which means you don’t have to.”

“Not that it is any of your business Granger but during the Death Eater revels… “

Hermione held her hand up to stop him continuing.

“I don’t want to know. I have enough unpleasant memories from the war, thank you very much.”

“We all do.” Draco finally interjected, looking a little green at what Severus had implied.

“Draco, you should be grateful too.” Hermione’s tone had softened to conciliatory after Snape’s interruption. “If I hadn’t removed the corrupted magic from your father he’d basically be a squib when he leaves Azkaban… or dead, considering someone has been poisoning him too. The magic-dampening wards were the only thing keeping that curse from eating him alive. On top of all that, I’ve heard legends that say if a wizard loses his magic, he dies – I don’t know how true that is though. It’s something I overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about one night, years ago.”

“Hermione, you realise that the Exonerare is one of the rituals responsible for capturing muggleborns during the war? It is where the concept of muggleborns stealing magic came from.”

“And it was all dragonshit; bastardising lore to organise a ridiculous and actually quite unbelievable - ironically ‘witch-hunt’ seems like the right term - is stupid and cowardly. You both clearly understand what the ritual entails. It needs  _ complete _ trust to even be performed. If Lucius hadn’t trusted me then there would have been much more severe consequences than what I experienced,  _ for both of us _ . Magic cannot be taken or stolen, especially by force; it can only be given freely. In fact, wasn’t the concept of exonerare also an element in the creation of the ‘dark mark’?”

“Touché, Granger. It was indeed. That could possibly be a reason why Draco is so fearful of it being used on Lucius…  _ again _ .” Severus answered.

Draco nodded.

“How did you even get my father to trust you anyway? And what did you do with the corrupted magic?”

“I can give you the memory to look at if you want, and in answer to your other question, I did nothing with the corrupted magic; I’m keeping it quite safely locked down with my own. Now, based on what Lucius told me, Draco, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh yes. And what is that?” Draco asked; still put out about Hermione’s audacity, despite the fact that she’d saved his father’s life.

“Why the hell haven’t you been to see him in the last ten years?”

“What?” Snape asked, looking shocked before his face morphed into a look of silent disappointment in the younger wizard.

Draco just dropped his head to stare shamefully at his shoes. He didn’t think she’d know that.

“Well?”

His mumbled answer was difficult to understand.

“What?”

_ ‘Wow, she sounds mad.’  _ Draco thought.

“I was scared, ok. Like if I got too close to Azkaban, I’d be sucked in by the wards and never let out. It was only by the grace of the Gods that I never ended up there in the first place.”

“That’s really no excuse to leave your own father to fester for a decade in a place like that. I literally felt like I was being permanently haunted by the past when I was there; completely alone and unloved. Imagine feeling only that for a decade; feeling abandoned by the only family you have left. Draco, he didn’t know about Astoria or Scorpius. Is he even aware that his wife died? I dare not bring it up in case he didn’t know but  _ I  _ had to inform him he was a grandfather and  _ I  _ had to tell him that you turned into a decent human being; although I’m really not so sure anymore given the fact that you would do that to  _ family _ .”

Severus could see that Draco was on the edge of tears.

“That’s enough, Hermione. Whilst I don’t condone Draco’s actions, I can understand them. The guilt he feels is…”

“Nowhere near a good enough excuse. I’m sorry Severus; usually I would agree with you that feeling guilt-ridden and scared would justify keeping anyone away from a place like Azkaban but  _ not _ for a decade and  _ not _ when it comes to family. It took me five years to face the Manor after the war and I felt sick and scared every second I was there but I did it. Do you remember why I did it, Draco?”

“You came because I needed your help. I asked for you to lend your abilities in reading magic to neutralise the dark energies that still lingered.” Draco said sheepishly.

“Exactly. I faced the place that had caused me nightmares and panic attacks for years; those events led me to needing a therapist whom I still have to see on occasion. I don’t begrudge what you were trying to do Draco; ridding your home of the lasting effects of Snake-face and Bellabitch was the only way you and eventually Lucius would ever feel peace there, and especially after Scorpius came along, the Manor needed to be free of that crap. I’m not even saying that I regret helping you; I put a lot of the past to rest in my own psyche whilst I was rebalancing and neutralising that shit. I re-learned how to let myself be vulnerable whilst I was dealing with your home and most nights I went home crying but it  _ needed _ to be done. I’m even thankful for it in some ways.

“But you’re a Gryffindor, Granger. You can find the courage to see these things through; even if it does take a while, you can still do it, eventually.”

“Oh for the love… Do you really think it’s the fact that at the age of  _ eleven _ , I was sorted by a magic hat into a group known for bravery? Sure, as a kid I was probably best suited for Gryffindor; despite my need for knowledge, I was also willing to do anything to get it. Think about what I’ve done since then, Draco: healed old rivalries with you, Pansy, even Severus; and now with your father too; surely that’s more of a Hufflepuff trait than Gryffindor. I’ve opened my own business, shrewdly negotiated contracts with other business owners and the Goblins; the ambition and cunning it took to do some of that would earmark me as Slytherin in a second. Lastly, I think my Ravenclaw traits are well-known to all.”

“You certainly blow your own trumpet like a Gryffindor,” Severus added snidely.

Hermione ignored him. He had a point.

“Look, I’m not saying I can’t sympathise with your fears but you can’t hide behind being a Slytherin forever. After being on the dark side of the war, of course you would be petrified of Azkaban but some of those fears are unfounded. Harry and I garnered you a  _ full pardon _ ; you are a  _ free _ man; a  _ good _ man and a  _ good _ father. Now, stop being  _ such _ a pussy and go be a good son too.”

“You’re sexy when you get all mad and self-righteous, you know that?” Draco said, suddenly cocky with the unexpected praise.

“Don’t even try to change the subject on me, Draco Malfoy. You need to go and see your  _ father _ . It’ll already be obvious that you’re only going because I told you to but at least if you go a few times before he’s released, you can help him understand what to expect when he gets home. A lot has changed in the last ten years; it’s going to be a bit of a culture shock for him. Tell him about Scorpius. I showed him the memory of you two picking the branch for Scorpius’s wand. Amongst a few others, it’s what made him trust me.”

“Will you go with me… please?” Draco asked quietly. Hermione was reminded of a child, scared of using his magic for the first time with a new wand; she was reminded of little Albus from Christmas Day and his worries over summoning his gift.

“That may not be wise,” Severus added just as Hermione was about to agree. “We do not yet know what effect the cursed magic has had on you or what it might do if in the proximity of Lucius again.”

“It hasn’t acted up since I landed on the beach at Shell Cottage yesterday. In fact, I can’t feel it having any effect whatsoever but I will spend tomorrow with my crystals… meditate,  _ cleanse _ .” She gave Severus a poignant look, telling him to read into what she was saying. “As we have the Tournament on New Year’s Day, I won’t have the time to go back up to Azkaban until the 2 nd . That gives Draco a chance to get used to the idea of going because he  _ will _ be going, even if I have to drag him there whilst he’s kicking and screaming like a toddler.”

“I am still here, you know. Are you sure going back won’t have any weird effects on your magic? I don’t want to have to see you walk in there and jump him, or the other way around; you’d have to obliviate me.”

“Charming, Draco but you have nothing to worry about; I am perfectly capable of controlling myself with or without magical fluctuations. Your father might be a good-looking man but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lose my mind and do something unprofessional.”

Draco and Severus did that annoying Slytherin eyebrow thing at each other.

“How can you be so sure?” Severus asked. “Performing the Exonerare in the first place was hardly a professional practice.”

“I’d rather not discuss how I can be so sure. It’s… personal.”

More eyebrows.  _ Bloody Slytherins. _

“Fine. If you must know, I plan to… exhaust myself in the possible… area of effect so that even if the magic wants to do something, by intention my body will not respond.”

“Oh Merlin, you’re going to get yourself off. Granger, that’s hot.” Draco commented with dawning comprehension, eyeing the visible cleavage over her corset.

Hermione pinked as Draco’s words hit home and Severus looked at her… curiously. She attempted a change of subject.

“Please stop using American TV shows for modern colloquialisms and remember we live in England.”

“Oh wait… gross; so you really  _ do _ fancy my father?”

“I’m not having this conversation. Not in front of a former-Professor and certainly not with you.”

After several more moments of teasing and a rise in Hermione’s temperature and colour, Severus took pity on her. She had after all given him several thousand galleons worth of potion ingredients today.

“Draco, I wonder if you might take a few things over to Andromeda Tonks for me. She placed an order three days ago and I haven’t had a chance to get to the owl office.” He asked once Hermione had excused herself to the bathroom.

“Spoilsport.” The blond pouted. “This is the best thing I’ve heard in ages. Granger frigging herself so she doesn’t jump my father’s bones is hilarious; despite the vomit-inducing mental image.”

“After everything that witch has done for you and your family, I think it might be time to show her a bit of respect. The laugh has gone on long enough. Go. Now. Before she changes her mind about going with you in a few days. I’m sure her patience and generosity will only stretch so far.”

Draco cringed.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You never do. Go on. I will offer her your apologies by way of you paying her to accompany you tomorrow for a further consultation with Lucius regarding his wand. She may need another read on him anyway, once the corrupted magic has been out of his system for a while.”

“Fine. Where’s the package for Aunt Andi?”

“On the side table, inside the entrance to the lab.”

…

Hermione rinsed the heat from her cheeks with cold water and stared at her appearance, thankful that she had performed a sticking charm on her eye make-up. Blushing like a schoolgirl at Draco’s speculation over her masturbation practices had not been part of the plan for the day. Despite what they thought though, her embarrassment wasn’t the only reason for the flushed cheeks and elevated temperature.

Whilst it was definitely not a topic of conversation she’d choose, she had noticed a distinct change in atmosphere when her sex life was being discussed; the energy of the room had shifted and it was coming from Severus. His eyes had narrowed slightly, an eyebrow had risen subtly and his magic seemed to be… excited; simmering just below the surface. She wondered whether a little persuasion could entice him to act on it.

Actual sex  _ would _ be more effective at tempering her magic ready to return to Azkaban than masturbation but ‘would Severus actually want to?’ was the question. Her intuition said ‘yes’, her history with the taciturn man said ‘no’. Lucius wasn’t even a prospect for at least two months, if at all; maybe longer before he could reacclimatise to the world. With her determination to swear of Weasleys forever, she had no one else queuing up to satisfy her in the bedroom.

Even if she considered Pansy’s drunken proposal to share Charlie with her - ‘if you’re so hard up, Granger, I can share my man with you’ had been her exact words – she didn’t want to go back to that fathom of the Weasley pool again. Once had been enough; he’d practically split her in half and she had no idea how Pansy could walk.

Hermione cleared her mind of the memory and refocused on her own image in the mirror as she thought of the idea that was so close to the surface. Finally…  _ finally _ … fucking Severus Snape. Pansy’s words from earlier had been playing on her mind since she arrived if she was being honest with herself.  _ Did _ Severus smile more around her? Though her crush and juvenile thoughts of ‘looking after him forever because no-one had ever cared for him unselfishly’ were over, the desire to jump his bones had never quite disappeared.

She could imagine his intensity; black eyes burning with lust and a bruising grip where his fingers dug into her hips from behind. He’d be almost completely silent but his breathing would increase; that would be the only indication that she was affecting him, so she’d squeeze her internal muscles tighter to get a groan from him.

_ ‘Wow, it’s getting warm in here. Calm down, for fuck’s sake. You’re supposed to be over this and you have to face him again in a minute.’ _

The internal self-berating did little to calm her lustful imagination or the dampness that had seeped into her knickers at the very idea of fulfilling such a long-held fantasy. She hadn’t thought of him in such a way for quite a while (a week at least) but apparently it was like riding a bike – or a broom if you asked one of her many Quidditch-loving friends – apparently one never forgets.

With a last look at her hair in the mirror, she decided to undo the clip that kept her thick curls off her neck during the day and allowed the glossy, chocolate ringlets free reign. If there was any possibility of this actually happening she wanted to completely let loose and be as uninhibited as possible – wild hair was part of that image.

She opened the bathroom door excited for what might come next and gasped when Severus was standing right in front of her on the other side of it; the eyebrow evidently raised in assessment as he took in her newly freed locks and freshly-washed face. In the moment of silence that passed between them, Hermione could’ve sworn his eyes roamed lower before quickly returning to her face. And that feeling again, of simmering magic, caught her senses.

"You should not let Draco get to you like that; he’ll tease you all the more if he thinks you will rise to the bait," her impressively tall ex-Professor advised in his drawling voice, a slight smile playing over his lips. 

_ ‘Wow, he’s close,’  _ she thought to herself as he leaned an arm on each side of the doorframe; caging her into the bathroom, his eyes intense as if he’d read her mind and was mimicking her fantasies of how this might begin. She refused to be intimidated by his display though and far from feeling like a deer-in-headlight, his dominant gesture turned her on. She allowed the usual quiet sexual confidence she possessed to roar to life in her eyes; deliberately darting her tongue out across the sudden arid dryness of her lips.

His eyes dipped briefly from hers and took in the movement. That was enough to send very horny part of her which was already revving up, barrelling full-pelt into overdrive; immediately she imagined what his kiss might taste like; how his lips would be warm, dry and demanding. She let the image in her mind, the thoughts and feelings surrounding what she wanted to slip from behind her day-to-day occlumency shields; available for his perusal and stared at him boldly; daring him to look.

"He will never get to see me naked," she responded in a bold but whispered voice, “it's jealousy.”

_ ‘But you can,’ _ she added in her mind, also on the visible side of her mental shields.

Her words, spoken and unspoken, drew a short, startled chuckle from him and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks again. Whilst she hadn’t been shy about flirting or sex in a very long time, this felt like playing with fire; worse than playing with fire, playing with Slytherins. 

"You seem… flustered, Hermione," he observed, dragging out the syllables of her name as if savouring the shape of them on his tongue.  _ ‘Merlin, his tongue…’ _

Her eyes unconsciously dropped to his mouth, unable to control the impulse as her mind imagined the many ways he could use  _ that  _ tongue and when she regained the equilibrium to look back he seemed closer still. Instinctively, she took a step back; he had never looked more like a predator (which was saying something), and she had never felt more like willing prey. A slight lift of an eyebrow reminded her she was supposed to be saying something right about now,  _ answering a question… _

_ ‘Oh shit, I’m never going to live that down. I got so turned on, I couldn’t answer a question. What was it… oh, flustered, right...’ _

"I - flustered? No - just…" she stammered.  _ 'Fuck, Hermione, get a grip' _ she told herself.  _ ‘Adult woman. Needs. Capable man. Not ashamed.' _

This ‘pep-talk’ worked better than the last; stuttered and lust-fuelled it may be but it was just enough to remind her that she was no longer a fifteen year-old girl with a stupid crush on an unattainable teacher. Surrendering to the wants of her body rather than the excuses her mind was failing to come up with, she gathered all the bravery and boldness she was so well reported for having and spoke with confidence, making deliberate eye-contact that almost begged him to use legilimency on her.

Severus was surprised by the stark hunger in Hermione’s eyes. He’d only come upstairs to make sure she wasn’t in tears over Draco’s jibes. It had been amusing to see her so irate… amusing and if he was honest, more than a little arousing. Coupled, with her rather  _ indecent _ apparel and he’d been hard pressed to keep his eyes off her slim body. The girl had gravity-defying breasts that looked perfectly sized for his hands, although he mentally admitted that was the logic of his primal urges; her hips looked equally graspable and he could imagine very clearly the picture of her rounded globes bouncing off his hip bones as he controlled her movement and slid into her dripping pussy with ease.

The barrage of thoughts that hit his mind when she allowed such things freedom from her occlumency shields had him harder than Hagrid’s rock cakes in a matter of seconds. He’d be lying if he said this was the first time he’d thought of her this way but with the twenty year age difference, her being an ex-student and the way he’d treated her in the past, he assumed he’d have no chance at all. As it dawned on him that he had clearly been misguided in this thought, she started playing with the neckline of her corset thing and licking her lips. He was beginning to feel as flustered as he accused her of being.

"Just rather worked up, I'm afraid," she smiled seductively. "All that ‘telling off’ got my blood pumping. It’s something of a turn on for me, you see. I don't suppose you'd consider..?" she asked, biting her lower lip in anticipation and toying with the lace of her top where it framed and showcased her breasts. It took all of her willpower not to smirk when his eyes were briefly drawn down to where her fingertips skimmed the crease of her cleavage. 

_ ‘Did she just… proposition me?’ _ He mentally questioned.  _ ‘Oh, game on.’ _

His eyes seemed darker, if that was possible, when they returned to her face. Stepping forward with all of the intimidating presence he was known for; he closed the final few inches between them and pulled Hermione to him, bodily by the hips, his hands snaking their way to her lower back before getting a good grip on her backside.

"I will ask you this once, Hermione and once only. Are you absolutely sure you want this?" His voice was low and husky; his eyes were focused intensely on hers as he awaited the answer he knew would come as surely as she would. 

In lieu of a verbal answer, which she didn’t feel capable of anyway, Hermione closed her eyes and allowed his breath to guide her movements until her lips caught his. They were warm, dry and… unmoving. She experienced a slight sense of déjà vu from her time visiting Lucius but ignored it. Severus was probably just surprised that she’d made that connection, instead of letting him do it. Unlike a lot of witches, those who were raised in the wizarding world, Hermione wasn’t afraid of being proactive in getting what she wanted; even if she did have a submissive streak a mile long.

Before she could run her tongue along the seam of his lips, encouraging him to take part, he softly moved away from her questing mouth and took a breath.

“Use your words, Hermione. As much as I would like to, we cannot proceed unless I have your verbally- expressed consent. I certainly cannot fuck you the way I’d like to unless you tell me you want it.

A visible shiver wracked her body at his delicious words and something very specific sparked in her memory from another encounter – a submissive one. More arousal seeped from her at the prospect of it and she confidently breathed her answer mere millimetres from his lips…

"Yes,  _ Sir _ ," she exhaled, sending his mind spiralling with need. She pressed flush against him, thrilled at the hardness already evident in his trousers, gorgeously engorged proof of how she affected him. 

He could hardly breathe at her words. Very few knew of his predilection for sexual dominance. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of but it was kept quiet for the sake of keeping his name off the front page of the ‘The Daily Prophet’. Hermione Granger being submissive though, was incredibly surprising; the woman was a one-woman rampage when she got into the stride of a rant or ‘telling off’ as she’d put it. His mind burst with possibilities as she rubbed herself against him.

"Then, unless you have a... fetish for dimly lit hallways, may I suggest we take this somewhere more comfortable?" 

He led her down the  _ dimly lit  _ hallway, the dimness coming from a two-taper sconce flickering with low flames on their left hand side.

“Hey, wait for me. Your legs are longer than mine. And where’s my kiss?”

“Not today, Miss Granger,” He responded with a smirk in his voice; not slowing his pace as she ran to keep up. “Parts of the Exonerare stay active for at least seven days and I like my magic where it is.”

She followed behind him, excited by the turn of this encounter and watching him bum as he ascended a narrow staircase. It opened into a large attic bedroom with sloping white eaves and thick, black beams spread on either side. ‘Cottage-y’, Hermione might have thought if she wasn’t preoccupied with being taken to Severus’s bed. 

The bed was four-poster, something Hermione suspected would be hard to live without after so many years at Hogwarts; it took up the middle of the room and was adorned with black bedding and a crocheted green throw. There was a tall, antique dresser in a dark wood (walnut, her inner wand-maker noted absently) directly under a skylight window and several overflowing bookcases. The last thing she noticed before Severus drew her attention back to him was a stack of cauldrons that leaned against the dresser.

He backed her up against one of the bedposts and whilst tempted to just grab both of her wrists and pin them above her head, he decided to test the strength of this submissive streak he’d discovered.

“Arms up. Hands above your head and against the post.” He directed.

“Yes, sir. She answered automatically, immediately complying with his demands.

“Can you keep them there or do you need me to cast a sticking charm?”

He saw the comprehension dawn in her eyes as she realised he was going to play along with her submission. That comprehension was fast replaced with extreme desire and she rolled her wrists but kept them where they were. 

“I think I might need the sticking charm,  _ sir _ .”

_ ‘Interesting. Very interesting.’ _

Severus waved a hand across her wrists, whispering “ _ Incarcerous _ ,” and Hermione felt a rope magically wrap around her wrists to secure them in place.

"Beautiful. Now, are you terribly attached to this rather  _ delicious  _ outfit?" he growled. 

Hermione shook her head and whispered a breathless “no sir” at his immediate power play. He grunted his satisfaction, pulling his wand from somewhere she didn’t see and casting a wordless spell. Every stitch of her clothing tore at the seams and fell, in shreds, to the floor.

Hermione squeaked at the sudden chill against her bare skin but found it all very exhilarating and watched transfixed as he lowered his head, pulling one tightly pebbled nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled the dusty pink flesh; his fingertips trailing along the outline of her dragon tattoo where it curved around her hip before cupping the firm rounds of her buttocks and tracing delicate patterns across the skin at the tops of her thighs. 

Hermione whimpered and wriggled under his ministrations, desperate to touch him, but he kept the spell in place as he teased, reminding her that though she might have requested this liaison, he was in charge. 

"Let me touch you!" she begged; her voice higher than normal and tinged with urgency. 

Severus smirked, nipping at the tender skin at the underside of her breasts; she couldn’t help the whimpers he evoked and Severus found each one he elicited from her to be beautifully wanton. Her hips canted further forward with the severity of her need and he couldn’t say he had ever felt more powerful than in that moment; it was utterly sinful and desperately addictive. 

"Say please," he growled, realising that as much as her continued inability to use her hands would be fun, he wanted to feel her touching him more. He delivered a gentle smack to her pert bottom for the impertinence of her asking and relished in her yelp at the sting of his palm. A gush of arousal flooded from her already soaking pussy at the mild punishment and he realised just how ingrained she might be in submission. It was a heady thought but only to explore after a more thorough conversation than he was capable of right now.

"Please, sir,  _ pleeeease  _ may I touch you?!" She begged without shame.

He found it adorable that she had begged without hesitation and released her hands; stepping back slightly to let his eyes burn over her body, memorising her form. She was more svelte than he’d imagined, like a runner or a swimmer but curvaceous enough to be almost considered voluptuous and by all the Gods, her curves were in the right places. Her trim waist accentuated round hips and a firm arse, making his cock surge.

Hermione wasted no time in reaching for him; the dominant power-play hadn’t been surprising. Technically she’d only been angling for a bit of classroom roleplay (hence the ‘sir’) but he’d taken it another way and she was happy to play submissive to his dominance. Percy Weasley had been the once to introduce her to such things and she’d enjoyed it more that she imagined she would. It was something she often wondered whether she’d inherited from Bellatrix’s magic/energy… getting off on a bit of pain.

Returning her thoughts to the task at hand, she eagerly tugged at his shirt buttons before growing impatient and grabbing her wand from the floor. The shirt vanished with a tickling sensation running over Severus as her magic covered his alabaster torso in a soft, rippling wave. Severus couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at her audacity but stopped her before she could irretrievably banish any more of his clothing.

"I'm rather fond of this belt," he told her, apologetically, a hand covering hers where it sat at the buckle. Hermione smirked and dropped to her knees, running her fingertips from under his and along the strap of dragonhide that circled his hips.

"It is rather fine…" she agreed, leaning forward to press her lips to it before using her teeth to undo the belt and unbutton his trousers. 

Severus's breathing deepened as he tried to control himself. Just the sight of her -  _ Hermione Granger _ , darling of the Wizarding World - naked and knelt before him; that smart, know-it-all mouth so devastatingly close to his cock, he was beside himself with the surrealism of it; with the  _ unexpectedness _ of it.

It was like something from a dream as he watched her finally succeed in divesting him of his remaining clothes and turn her attention to his cock. It stood proud of his body; alert and weeping. She shivered with anticipation. It was a reaction he thought he might duplicate when their eyes met.

"You're bigger than I imagined," she told him, running a thumb over the bulbous head before bringing it to her lips and bestowing an almost reverential kiss. It twitched and sent a shudder of pleasure ricocheting through his body just as her tongue dipped into the pre-come leaking from his slit and he silently thanked Merlin and all the Gods that he was no longer a teenager. If he had been... well, he was certain it would have been all over in that very second; he’d have shot his load the second she touched him, splattering across her perfect tits and thoroughly embarrassing himself.

She was just opening her mouth to take him whole, much to his still awed amazement, when a thought came to him - he was supposed to be pleasuring her, his own satisfaction was essentially a side-effect in this liaison. The idea of lapping her ambrosia directly from it’s delectable source set his cock twitching again and she hummed in appreciation. Quickly stepping away before he was lost to the pleasures of her mouth, Severus made his way to the bed.

" _ Please _ may I suck your cock?" she hazarded. 

He couldn’t help but laugh; a full laugh of mirth and awe. Not only was she allowing him to take the lead in this unexpected encounter but she was playing along with the slight dominance he was showing. The slight pout of disappointment could almost be described as adorable and the complete unravelling of his ability to do anything but what she wanted.

"You may. But if we continue over here, I can give you pleasure at the same time. That was the point of this exercise, was it not?" 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to find a fail-safe way to please you? If I’d known all I had to do was offer you the chance to eat me out, I’d have done so years ago.”

He chuckled, beckoning her to him with a crooked finger. Hermione eagerly joined him on the bed, practically taking a running jump before twisting with gymnastic flair and straddling his chest; her perfect heart shaped bottom facing him, her mouth descending to immediately encompass his thick shaft with her lips. 

Severus groaned at the sensation of wet warmth enveloping his under-used cock. With the last shreds of sanity, just before he bottomed out in her throat, he managed to hastily drag layers and layers of thin occlumency shields into place, giving him a fighting chance to make her come first. 

He hands ran up the toned thighs splayed before him, squeezing the gorgeous rump before spreading her folds gently to expose the nectar dripping from her core. She shuddered and wriggled a little at his touch making him smirk at the discovery that she was ticklish – something to explore later. He squeezed at her hips, applying enough pressure to encourage her wriggling backwards; when she complied wordlessly, he rewarded her with a sure swipe of his tongue over her clit. 

She attempted to buck against his face as he continued, but she was held firmly in place and he enjoyed the feeling of strength he felt that he could hold her still against the onslaught of sensation he was causing. Every moan and whimper from her throat was muffled by his cock, each sound vibrating intensely through his it’s length as she continued to suck him like a sugar quill. 

On the next swipe, she stilled; every muscle tensing as her lips parted from the base of his shaft and she let out a garbled shriek, marking her release. Sweet creaminess oozed from her centred and Severus lazily and gently lapped it away, stroking his fingertips up and down her hips and thighs softly as she came down from her high.

"Need you, inside me, please," she panted, pulling away, breathless; glossy lips and tangled curls making her look utterly debauched. Her legs trembled in his hands; her eyes were blown wide and he had no recollection of seeing anything sexier in his life. 

He lifted her by the hips he felt incapable of releasing and manoeuvred her forward until she could grab the footboard at the bottom of the bed. Her knuckles were white when he tightened his grip once again and positioned himself at her still twitching entrance. Half a breath he waited before surging into her from behind.

The sound that left her was guttural as he sunk into her depths; long and low, she groaned at the pleasure of their joining, at the stretch of him filling her. He took another moment once he fully seated to once more make sure he didn’t embarrass himself and just as he withdraw, ready to slam into her for a second time, he watched her take a hand from the footboard of his bed and move it between her slender thighs to work her clit.

He knew in that instant there would be nothing delicate about how this would reach its natural conclusion; she was intent on a vigorous and explosive coupling and he could certainly deliver it. Without words he could tell she could and would take anything he had to give… and with that thought in mind, Severus surged into her, hard and fast, filling her to capacity.

His fingers dug into her hips so hard they both knew he would leave bruises and at that imagining she naturally pushed back into his thrusts, a rush of arousal flooding over his pistoning cock at the thought of carrying his marks on her body for a few days. The curl of heat tightened in her belly as her mind conjured a picture of the state of her hips tomorrow; it was enough to push her over the edge of bliss and her orgasm crashed through her in swirling, rolling waves of ecstasy and release; his name torn from her lips like a banshee’s scream.

She was clenched so tight around him, limbs frozen, internal walls contracting harshly and he could hold onto his own release no longer; finally giving in to the exquisite peak of his pleasure, he dropped his shields and grunted his end, shuddering as he came with a final deep surge. 

Slumping forward, he just managed to stop himself from collapsing on her completely and placed a tender kiss between her shoulder blades and enjoyed the last shudder it evoked. After a moment to catch his breath and with them both sated, he guided her down to the mattress, placed one arm under her head as the other gently stroked the lines of her body as they relaxed.

“Worth the wait?” He asked, knowing the answer as she was already starting to doze.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” She breathed before giving in to her tiredness.

He smiled at her profanity and joined her in a late-morning nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we have it... a smutty bit of mid morning fun for our leading lady. this chapter was going to be about another 2000 words but as I'm late posting it already, I decided to chop it off here. Drama in C6 to look forward to... and much dialogue.
> 
> Love and Blessings to you all for reading x Please comment, leave kudos, subscribe and all those other lovely things that people do here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the author's who lent their names to cameo's in this chapter.
> 
> Bonnie Fox (as herself)  
> Silver Lioness (as Leona Silver)  
> Kittenshift17 (as Ember Elia Drake)
> 
> and
> 
> TanzaniteWrites (as Tanzy from 'Tanzy and the Unicorns')
> 
> Much love to you all for allowing me to use you in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

New Year’s Day came around far too quickly for Hermione and she found herself frazzled beyond comprehension. The hangover wasn’t helping if she was being honest; a tender stomach, sore head and aching limbs meant she was more than ready for this day to be over already but with the start of The Duelling Tournament imminent, she downed a hangover potion and planted a smile on her face.

It had been a great night, the night before. Andi Tonks had hosted a fantastic party – drinks flowed, music played, there was dancing and games, some interesting pairings when it came to snogging at midnight and Hermione had passed out after only three glasses of elf-wine. She had no idea how she’d got home but she trusted everyone at the party and there were enough people who loved her there to make sure she was safe. Andi hadn’t been drinking as she was designated babysitter and as a quarter of the guests were Aurors and the Minister of Magic was there, it seemed impossible that anything too untoward would happen. Still… the hangover potion had very little effect on her symptoms and Hermione wondered if her drink could’ve been spiked.

On the way to the tent which was erected as a lounge for the competitors, she was stopped by three reporters wanting interviews; got lewdly propositioned by Theodore Nott _and_ called upon to act as an adjudicator because one of the officials had been taken ill with a bad case of spattergroit. On top of all that, her so-called partner had disappeared half an hour ago for a little pre-match tension relief with her husband and the hangover potion wasn’t working.

She worried she might be coming down with the flu as she made her way past a bunch of competitors for the Intermediate Tournament, but realised she could really only blame herself for Pansy’s vanishing act. She’d left Severus’s place a few days ago to find the Slytherin witch on the verge of tears as she was locking up the shop. A huge hug and much soothing later, the two witches had indulged in the age old tradition of drinking vodka and bitching about men.

This was followed by a tipsy reading of Pansy’s magic and prolific reassurances that there was nothing wrong with her ability to conceive. When that hadn’t quite stopped Pansy from fretting, Hermione offered to help the couple get in touch with muggle IVF specialists if they still hadn’t got pregnant in another year. Pansy had finally cheered up after a few dozen stories on the internet about families who had waited over _ten_ years to have a baby and the Slytherin witch had to concede that she was judging the flaws in her own fertility too soon.

The next two days had been spent sketching the design of Lucius’s wand set and staff; commissioning Seamus to create a platinum topper of Lucius, Draco and Scorpius for the staff head and informing Harry and Draco of Severus’s belief that Bellatrix LeStrange was _not_ , as Hermione had first assumed, still at large. Amongst these professional demands, Hermione also spent time at the Crystal Cave and The Grove, balancing the new magic she had acquired from Lucius with her own.

In their post-coital chat, Severus had explained that whilst the contaminated magic had already been flushed of darkness by her natural purity, the assimilation would remain incomplete without the harmonising influence of the Crystal Cave. She had scoffed at his comment on her purity and climbed on top of him for another round; he’d conceded her point but explained that her magic, just like her soul, despite its many trials and tribulations was still pure. He’d also taken to giving her the nickname of…

“Hey Hermione,” Draco shouted as he approached her in the duellers’ tent behind the event platform, “I hear you’re the Patron Saint on Unicorns these days.”

“Malfoy,” she greeted cautiously as he sidled up to her, grimacing at the new nickname; obviously he’d been to see Severus in the last few days. _Damn Slytherins._

“I understand you’re still angry with me. I’ve had a few days to think about what you said and you were right; I really should’ve been to see Father. I’ve been too remiss in conquering my fears of Azkaban; it’s just really hard.”

“As long as you’re still willing to go tomorrow, you can consider the matter forgiven and forgotten. I probably shouldn’t have attacked you quite so vehemently without knowing your reasons. It’s just that… Well, things are still a bit frosty with my dad since he learned about exactly how much I lied regarding all the war stuff. I’d give anything to have my friendship back with him and you’re just ignoring yours. I know there are deep fears involved and I understand why you didn’t go, even if I don’t agree with letting your reasoning win.

“Is this meant to be you being conciliatory?”

“Sorry. I’m stressed and hungover and the stupid potion I took isn’t working.”

“You do look a bit pale. Listen, I’m sorry too. I really do appreciate what you’re doing for my father. I think I was just in shock about the ritual. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I need to find Lee so we can get started. Could you go find Pansy for me, please? Although, cover your eyes if you look for her anywhere she might be having a round or two of make-up sex with her husband.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s all I need… hearing Pansy squeal like a banshee.” He answered sarcastically. “Hey, Lee who?”

“Lee Jordan. He’s commentating. Pulled in a favour from the twins and they got in touch with him for me.” She answered automatically; feeling a wave of dizziness hit her. “His commentary was the only thing that made Quidditch games b-bearable at school.”

“You’re so weird. How can you not like Quiddi-?”

His words were cut off when she swayed and grabbed his arm to keep her upright.

“Sorry, felt like I was going to fall right off my feet for a moment then.”

“Let me get you to the medi-witch. Something’s obviously not right with you.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a hangover and I have a job to do, Malfoy. Also, the reason I don’t like Quidditch is because it’s boring. I only ever went to matches at school to support Harry and Ron... and Gryffindor of course.”

“Of course,” he drawled, setting her back to rights when she seemed more in control. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok? This is a long event.”

“Awww, Malfoy. I didn’t know you cared.” She said sarcastically, even though it was hard for her to raise a sense of humour right now.

“I don’t. You’ve been hired for a commission. I want my money’s worth.”

“Liar. You like me now. It took me long enough but I finally wore down all that hatred for muggleborns because I’m so wonderful and amazing and…”

“Granger, you’re delirious. Have you been drinking? What in the name of Sweet Salazar is going on with you?”

“Malfoy, I promise… I’m just teasing.

Draco rolled his eyes and decided to run her behaviour by Severus and Potter once she was on stage. Something was off with her and it wasn’t a hangover.

“What kind of favour did the twins owe you anyway?” He asked, attempting to change the subject.

“Oh, that.” She smirked suddenly. “That was… Why?”

Her tone had changed from smug to suspicious in the blink of an eye. He needed Severus, or possibly a whole team of St Mungo’s healers.

“Just curious.” He answered, guiding her to a seat and looking around for help.

“Mmhmmm,” she responded with disbelief of his motives, sitting down with a sigh into a squashy armchair. “Well, if you must know – fuck this is comfortable – if you must know, I volunteered to help test a few of their products. The side effects would have cost them a fortune if I’d got in touch with a lawyer so I said they could repay me in an unspecified amount of favours over ten years. I have four years left.”

“Oh, you’re good, Granger. I think I need you working on my legal team.”

“Not a chance.” She answered with an attempt at smirking; she was clearly getting weaker but trying not to show it. This was especially evident when she beckoned him closer and leaned in close to his ear to whisper, “But if you’re really good, I might be your new step-mum, and then you’d get my brilliant brain for nothing.”

Draco shivered. Whether from the mental image she’d just given him or from some weird sexual thing (it was a poorly kept secret that he had a thing for her) she wasn’t sure but it made her smile anyway. In his mind, it was the fact that her breath had the distinct odour of sulphur lingering in it and the smell of sulphur was never good news.

“Don’t say stuff like that to me, Granger. You’ll give me nightmares.” He said, knowing it was the response she expected. He needed to keep her calm and find Severus.

Hermione laughed weakly; deteriorating fast.

“Grow-up Draco; I’m teasing. Consider it payback for the other day, but I don’t actually have time to deliver it in full right now because I’m running so late and really have to get this lot organised. Oh, that reminds me, if you see Harry whilst you’re searching for Pansy; tell him to get his chosen one arse down to the stage. He’s supposed to be my headline competitor.”

It would’ve been so easy for him to retort sarcastically but alarm bells were going off in his head. He still hadn’t spotted Severus and the man was needed to read Hermione’s magic. It was as if something was draining or drugging her considering she was slurring her words, or… ‘ _Oh fuck. She’s been poisoned.’_

“Stay here Granger. There’s something happening out front and I think your hangover potion was out of date or something. You’re acting weird.”

Once Draco had darted out of the tent, Hermione left the comfy armchair and before she could be stopped by anyone else, she made her way to a make-shift dais to address the competitors. As host, she was annoyingly unable to compete in her own contest but she did receive automatic entry into any other duelling event. She was mostly looking forward to the _Alban Hefin Tournament_ , held at StoneHenge when the Summer Solstice festival rolled around; she’d come third last year, having lost to Snape in the first semi-final and was eager to improve her ranking and beat Severus.

It was probably a good thing she couldn’t compete anyway as her stomach was starting to roil like she wanted to be sick and she felt so dizzy she had no idea how she’d got up out of the chair. ‘ _Oh, why did I have to get sick today?’_ she thought to herself, knowing she was facing another seven hours of faking a smile and enthusiasm when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and die for the day.

She reached the dais and with a deep breath, cleared her throat loudly and waited for the crowd of competitors to turn to her…

…

Severus stood at the back of the tent, watching the exchange between Draco and Hermione. He had been hired as ‘security’ of sorts to stop sabotage between the competitors and was therefore disillusioned and utilising the stealth skills he had picked up from too many years as a spy. It spoke much of his _mellowed_ demeanour that Hermione had talked him into this in the afterglow of their tryst.

He’d tracked a shifty looking character for over half an hour that was registered as John Smith but had remarkably similar facial features to Barty Crouch Junior. However, as that particular piece of filth had been kissed by the dementors almost fifteen years ago though, it had to be impossible. The magical world was capable of many weird and wonderful things but retrieving a man’s soul from the abyss was not one of them.

At the look of distress on Draco’s face though, he stepped forward to hear the conversation more accurately and get a better look at Hermione, letting his mind focus on them, rather than the suspicious John Smith. She looked awfully pale and unsteady on her feet; there was sweat on her brow and a lack of focus in her eyes. Severus felt a kernel of apprehension knot in his gut; this wasn’t a hangover as she was claiming. He had provided everyone at the party last night with his heavy-duty hangover cure; a potion he developed during the war, and sold with massive success _after_ the war.

Their banter was amusing him, even as Draco expressed concern for Hermione’s condition. She was a stickler though; determined to power through regardless of doing so being of possible detriment to her health. She was such a Gryffindor, he was surprised she didn’t glow red and gold.

He followed as they moved towards some seating and watched Draco guide her to an armchair. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she welcomed the comfort and support when she sat. He almost didn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up with what she whispered to Draco; their teasing would be a thing of legend by the time they were wizened and croned, respectively.

When Draco stepped away, Severus went with him, keeping one eye on Hermione; just as he’d suspected she would, the infuriating witch started trying to regain her feet (with effort) as soon as they moved away. He watched her down a phial of what looked like Pepper-up before completely standing up and as Draco flew from the tent in search of help before Severus could reveal himself, he heard her begin…

“Good morning duellers, Happy New Year and welcome to the third annual Making Magic Duellers Tournament. I’d like to thank each of you for competing and making this event so popular with your skill, agility and showmanship. We will be starting in the next ten minutes so…”

‘ _Stubborn witch!_ ’ he thought fondly but with exhausted frustration as he saw her grip the microphone-stand for support. He couldn’t deny he’d moved beyond just tolerating her recently and had started thinking of her as a real friend. Their foray into the realms of a sexual relationship aside, which they had both decided should remain an isolated event, he considered her a genuine peer these days and was very proud of everything she’d accomplished. Unfortunately, caring about a Gryffindor came with a large dose of worry that their nature would get them into trouble.

There was a slight round of applause and murmurs of acceptance of her rules as she recited them before the duellers for the first competition followed her direction and left the tent, ready to be called up on stage. Everyone else went in several directions, choosing how to spend the next couple of hours and Severus looked around to relocate the shifty-looking John Smith, who it seemed, had taken the moments Severus was distracted to disappear.

Hermione made her way to the stage on unsteady legs behind the first group and prepared to address the large gathered crowd; her head spinning and the ground feeling like an earthquake was imminent beneath her. Large was an understatement in describing the crowds; a veritable ocean of pointy hats and brightly coloured robes stretched from The Leaky Cauldron, all the way up to Gringott’s. There were even a few goblins watching her step up to the podium from the steps. They had finally forgiven her for the break in and freeing their dragon hostage when she was part of the team that successfully bartered with the Ministry for them to possess wands. She’d even been involved in the crafting process; although they were made of various metals rather than woods.

She took a deep breath and tried not to let her nervousness at speaking to most of Wizarding Britain overtake her. It didn’t matter if she felt like she was about to collapse; she had a job to do.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Happy New Year and welcome to our third annual Making Magic Duellers Tournament. It’s going to be a long and exciting day so if you need refreshments , Molly Weasley has kindly set up a stall with a wonderful spread full of her famous cooking; there is also a tented bar connected directly outside the Leaky Cauldron with screens inside so you don’t miss any of the action. Pottage’s Cauldron Shop, in collaboration with Slug ‘n’ Jiggers Apothecary _and_ Prince Potions are offering sober-up and pepper-up potions so you can all stay conscious and alert for the fun.”

The crowd cheered and looked around for the facilities and amenities as Hermione pointed them out. She spotted a skinny wizard in all-black robes that gave her a disapproving eye and made a shiver run down her back in apprehension but she continued her announcement and kept a discreet eye on him.

“Now, please put your hands together and make some noise for the man making his refereeing debut this year… Thoooorfiiiiiiiin Rowle.” There was a smattering of applause as the ex-Death Eater made his way to the stage. Hermione understood it was hard for people to forgive, especially when the ex-Death Eater in question looked like a Viking and was once known as the skull-crusher. It made her sad though that Rowle didn’t get a full round of applause.

“Keep your applause going now and welcome our commentator for the day: Leeeeeeee Jordaaaaan; who we’ve happily borrowed from Quidditch League reporting just for today’s events.

The applause tripled in volume and Rowle tried, unsuccessfully to hide his sneer; thankfully he’d taken his place at the back of the stage and few saw it. The skinny man seemed to scowl at the named referee but then gave a slight nod. Hermione thought it seemed suspicious but there wasn’t really anything to go on and she knew there was nothing she could do until the break between Beginners and Intermediates; then she could mention him to Harry.

“And finally, your adjudication panel...” Hermione nodded toward a ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ style judge’s desk with two people seated and one empty place for herself. “Bill Weasley, Order of Merlin-First Class, Hogwarts Duelling Champion 1986 and Gringott’s Curse Breaker…”

She paused for the applause and wolf-whistles that followed, watching Bill nod to the crowd. Fleur would love that. The half-veela witch had quite the kink for knowing her man was wanted by everyone but she got to take him home; Hermione smiled at the memory of sharing him for a night.

“And, Filius Flitwick. I’m sure our esteemed Charms Professor, Head of Ravenclaw House and Deputy Headmaster needs no introduction but I will give him one anyway… the wizard who taught almost all of us _Wingardium Leviosa_ , Order of Merlin - First class, Hogwarts Faculty for over forty years and International Duelling Champion in 1958; a title he kept for the next five years.”

The crowd went wild causing Professor Flitwick’s face to blush a charming shade of puce. In the world of Duelling, he was the most famous person present; except for maybe Harry Potter but that’s only because of his big defeat of Voldemort in 1998. Hermione lost sight of the skinny man in the uproarious praise for her former Professor and internally grimaced. The man was shifty, she could just tell and something triggered as familiar about him although she was sure she’d never seen him… maybe she’d seen a picture of him in _The Daily Prophet_.

“Now, the Beginner Tournament is about to start so make yourselves comfortable; we have eight competitors, all out of Hogwarts in the last three years. As I’m sure you know, entry to the Intermediate Competition is banned until the age of twenty-one. That’s eight duels for you to enjoy… four for the first round, two for the semi-finals, a third place face-off and the championship final.”

“Hey, Granger… who's the third adjudicator?” Fred Weasley shouted from the crowd. It had surprised her that neither of the twins were interested in entering – they were both amazing duellists – but George had explained that they’d each had enough damage done to them during the war and it seemed pointless to risk more when they didn’t need to. Hermione had smiled at that, realising they had finally grown some sense of self-preservation, before pointing out they could still do plenty of damage to themselves with their WWW products. The twins had just laughed at her, picked her up and plonked her, fully-clothed into the pond at the Burrow.

“That would be me, _Frederick_.” He hated being called Frederick, so naturally Hermione used it all the time. He scowled as the crows laughed but piped down and put an arm around his wife. Their daughter, Jasmine was on his shoulders – Katie Weasley (nee Bell) had become obsessed with Disney movies – their other daughter, Ariel was on her hip. “Well, if there are no further interruptions… without further ado, I shall hand you over to our commentator for the day. Lee…”

“Thanks Hermione. Let’s get started shall we, what a terrific event you’ve hosted today. I’d like to welcome to the stage…”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when her announcement was over and tuned out the commentary; she kept one eye on the duels to fulfil her role as adjudicator but she needed to find the skinny man in the crowd and she needed to focus on staying conscious and keeping her breakfast in her stomach. Her danger-senses were prickling and it had nothing to do with the amount of magical fighting that was about to take place. Something felt familiar about the magical signature that had come from ‘skinny man’; a particularly sadistic energy that had her hoping that Severus was right about Bellatrix being well and truly dead; all she could do was _hope_ and pray that for once, her instincts were wrong.

…

Hermione hadn’t seen him again, _skinny_ _man_ , and it had been almost two hours. The eerily familiar (and dark) energy signature she had felt earlier was still playing on her mind as she discreetly downed another pepper-up potion; they were supposed to last for about four hours and she was worried that she could already feel the effects of the last one wearing off; the lethargy of body, mind and magic creeping back in. As the renewed effects took hold, she stepped back up to the podium, ready to present trophies to the first competition’s winners. She couldn’t feel _skinny man_ ’s energy anymore but it also hadn’t quite left her either.

The competition had been well fought, with the young duellists enlisting a surprisingly vast array of exciting and effective spells. Even with her attention split between the duelling and scanning for the skinny man, she had recognised the talent on display. It helped that Minerva had re-introduced the Duelling Club at Hogwarts. With Hermione’s annual competition bringing the sport back to the headlines, it was almost as popular as Quidditch these days.

“What a fantastic competition that was; congratulations to all of our winners and well done to everyone who took part; you showed off your talent and skill wonderfully.” Hermione began as she picked up the microphone, “In thanks for your participation, each of you will receive a _ten Galleon_ gift voucher for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and automatic entry into our next competition if you wish to compete again next year. Now, onto our champions… in third place, the trainee Auror, who only left Hogwarts this last summer; please put your hands together and show your appreciation for Bonnie Fox. Congratulations, Miss Fox. For your third place win, you have earned yourself our Lapis Lazuli trophy with bronze base and inlay; crafted by my own hand; and fifty galleons.”

Hermione cast a spell at the trophy and Bonnie’s name engraved itself into the wooden plinth before handing it to the deserving young witch, who was currently having her arm healed by a hired medi-witch.

“In second place,” Hermione continued toward the audience when their applause died down; Bonnie and the medi-witch shuffling off stage, “a second year Charms apprentice with The Avalonian Academy, Miss Leona Silver - a very well executed cast on that last _rictusempra_ , Miss Silver - for reaching the final, you win a whopping _one-hundred galleons_ and our coveted smokey quartz and silver trophy. Congratulations.”

Once more, Hermione spelled the winner’s name onto the plinth of the trophy and watched as the witch took a bow at the applauding crowd. She loved this part of the tournament.

“And now, our Beginner category’s Duelling Champion of 2008…, the first witch to have achieved an apprenticeship with Newt Scamander in over thirty years, winner of our Gold and Sunstone Trophy and prize money of five hundred galleons… Miss Ember Elia Draaaaaaaaaake.”

Diagon Alley exploded with sound as Hermione first cast the carving spell into the plinth, then presented the winner with her trophy, prize purse and a huge bouquet of flowers (donated by Neville). “Exemplary performance, Miss Drake. How do you feel?”

The crowd quietened to listen to the first winner of the evening and Hermione spotted a whispered conversation between Draco and Harry and the opening to the tent.

“Tired,” Miss Drake announced, making the crowd laugh, just as she caught sight of Draco disappearing into the duellers’ tent with Harry, “but very proud of myself and very thankful for having been a Ravenclaw and part of the duelling club that was hosted by Professor Flitwick. I couldn’t have done this without you, sir.”

Hermione watched Filius nod at the young witch in appreciation but her mind was already on finding out what had happened as her body grew weaker by some unknown, annoying ailment, fighting against the pepper-up. Draco’s face had gone so pale, right before he darted away with Harry. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.

“Congratulations, Miss Drake. I hope to see you in the Intermediates next year. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger.”

“Let’s hear it once more for your first champion of the Tournament.” Hermione shouted loudly, keeping the concern off her face. “Well, time for a short break ladies and gentlemen. Refreshments have been refreshed and here to entertain you is a new singing group who won the Hogwarts Hallowe’en talent show back in October… ‘Tanzy and the Unicorns’.”

The Hogwarts girl band (she’d never forgive herself for being responsible for introducing X Factor and pop music to Wizarding Britain) made their way onto the stage in black hot pants and sparkly half done up robes that only covered the essentials and began to sing. Hermione cringed to herself and made a run for the tent.

“What’s happened?” She asked breathlessly as she approached Draco and Harry.

“Granger, what are you doing here? You’re sick. You can’t go to Azkaban right now. Why haven’t you handed over to Pansy and gone to St Mungo’s?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s slip up. So much for all Slytherins being stealthy.

“This is Auror business, Hermione. I can’t… wait you’re sick?” Harry asked, the authority she rarely heard in his voice melting into genuine worry.

 _‘Azkaban? Why are they going to… Lucius… the magic… skinny man!_ ’

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, Harry Potter.” She chastised weakly, breathlessly; the dizziness returning and her vision going double. “Either of you. If Draco’s actually going to Azkaban, this is about Lucius; and if this is about Lucius then I _need_ to know what’s happened because I’m the one who…”

“It’s classified, Hermione. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Then I’ll make my own way there.”

With those parting words she started for a dramatic storming out of the tent, ready to apparate to Azkaban under her own steam. Unfortunately, she collapsed before making it to the exit.

Harry and Draco ran over to where their friend was spark-out on the floor, examining her with the diagnostic spells they’d learned in training. When everything apart from her magic – which was barely registering – showed as normal, they shared an ominous look.

“Enervate,” Harry cast desperately, his wand pointing directly at her heart. “Hermione, wake up.”

“That won’t work Potter. Her magic’s been drained. We need to restore it fast or she’ll die.”

“Die? She can’t die, she’s Hermione. And what about your father? By all accounts, he’s in the same condition.”

“I think the two cases are connected; I think the two people are connected. In more ways than they imagined by the looks of it. If it’s his magic that was drained and hers has gone with it then there’s only one explanation…”

“What?” Harry shouted, watching his best friend slip away was something he couldn’t bear. He couldn’t lose her; he just couldn’t.

“They’re soulmates, Potter.”


End file.
